in this world you cannot change
by Harold Saxon
Summary: Donna is destined to bring the Master back to life, but was it ever her true intention to restore this dangerous Timelord to former power? A Donna/Master/Doctor fic: COMPLETED
1. Chapter 1

_**1.**_

**_July 2007, two days after the fall of the Master._**

Donna Noble never had been a firm believer in such things as fate or destiny. She used to think of them as something that was merely confined within the boundaries of dreadful daytime television and children's fairy tales, but what was very unlikely to happen in reality. When she arrived at his funeral pyre, and began to dig up his ring among his still smoldering remains, while tears blurred her sight, she finally had the time to reconsider this.

She suddenly realized that they had always been heading towards this.

Every step she took, every decision that she had made, however small or seemingly insignificant, had brought her closer to this fixed point in time.

And as she realized this, a sad little smile curled her lips. A sigh escaped her when her fingers closed around the small metal object that was buried underneath the black ashes.

She did not need to see it, to know that it was the Master's ring.

If she had the choice to do it all over again, she knew she would, and she did.

**_2._**

**_Two years later_**

For Donna Noble, fate came in the disguise of the smallest of decisions, made in a fraction of a second, one normal, cloudy Tuesday morning. She woke up late for work, and was in the hallway putting on her coat, when she picked up the weather forecast coming from the loud telly in the living room. Heavy showers were predicted in the afternoon, so she grabbed the red umbrella from the standard without giving it a second thought and was ready to head out of the door when Silvia's voice came from living room.

"Donna, take the umbrella with you, they say it's going to rain in the late afternoon."

"Yes mum, I know. Going now, see you tonight."

"Don't take the red one, I need to go to the shops today. Take the white one."

Donna sighed, and turned her head. "You are already taking the car."

"It's my car Donna! Don't give me any of that young lady. Take the white umbrella, it's as good as new."

"I don't…" Donna's voice trailed off, she grimaced and dumped the red umbrella into the standard to replace it with the white one. The one with the tube map of London printed in jellybean colors, with a large ugly cartoon candy bar, shouting an irritating advertisement slogan into the speech-balloon floating above its stupid cartoon peanut sprinkled head. She hated that umbrella. It made people stare at her as if she was some kind of colorblind simpleton who liked talking candy.

"Take the white umbrella. Did you hear me Donna?" Silvia urged, without leaving the sofa. She could hear her stirring in her cup of tea while she watched her morning shows.

Donna's hand loosened around the cheap plastic handle. If she hated the umbrella so much, why did she let her mum force her to take it out with her? She was a grown-up woman of 35, she didn't need to run around the city like a bloody moron just because her mum didn't want to be seen with a novelty umbrella with a cheeky candy wrap design. Why did she always need to listen to her? Can't she make up her own mind?

"Donna? Donna did you hear me?"

"Yes I heard you. I heard you the first time already." She dropped the ugly thing back into the bin and stepped out of the door. "Going now, see you later."

She didn't actually believe the weather forecast would be that accurate, and forgot about the incident as soon as she arrived at work. Work was a desk-job at the British Museum. It was nothing fancy that needed a degree in paleoanthropology, or archaeology, or actually anything else ending on –logy. It was a repetitive and mind-numbing job that consisted of archiving paper documents into the new computer system. Most of the time, she didn't have a bloody clue what she was typing, having to decipher the god-awful handwritings of other people, who were clever enough to get a degree in anything ending on –logy that was needed to get a more interesting and better paid job than she had. By lunchtime, she was, as always, more than happy to get away from her desk. She grabbed her coat, ready to rush out into the streets where she would join her small club of friends, all of them single women in their thirties, all of them fed up with their dead-end carriers and chain-smoking their way through the worst of the mid-week malaise in their usual hangout down town. She didn't expect to find the streets of London to be swamped by a rain downpour so thick and heavy that she couldn't even see the other side of the road. Cars crawled by at walking-speed, and a lonely, miserable looking cyclist passed by, soaked wet to his underwear. Donna had seen enough. She was not going out for lunch today. Not without an umbrella.

She called Amanda to tell her that she wasn't coming. Then she went down to the canteen and brought a can of soda and a ham sandwich for lunch. She didn't want to sit there, for it reminded her too much of work, so she took a stroll in the exhibition area. The rainy weather trapped a large number of tourists inside, and the main halls were more crowded than usual. Donna slipped past the old security guard, knowing very well that food wasn't allowed outside the designated restaurant areas, and went into one of the smaller exhibition rooms. She sat down on a marble bench facing a row of ancient Roman artifacts, took the triangle of bread out of the plastic wrapper and tucked in. It tasted worse than expected, blend with a rubbery texture, very prefab. She chewed on her leathery bite, her eyes wandered joylessly over the exhibited pieces of lime stone rubble displayed in front, which basically seemed formless and meaningless to her. Most of them were engraved gravestones or roadmarks, and she had never studied Latin in her life. But then her eyes stalled on a marble slate in the corner. It had as one of the few artifacts in the room, stucco reliefs. It pictured a woman, standing next to what seemed a wooden box that was placed on top of a flight of stairs as if it was a temple of worship. The slate was damaged, and the whole left side was missing, but there should be a second figure standing there as well for she could see the beginning of a leg, but what was really upsetting Donna Noble was the fact that the woman looked exactly like her. She walked closer to the piece of marble, and saw that she even had the same mole on her chin. She dropped her sandwich and took a step back, pressing her hand on her mouth but couldn't prevent it to drop open into a perfect O.

"No way!!" She blurted out.

"Hey! What are you doing there?"

Rob, the old security guard was rushing into the room, having spotted the inedible ham sandwich. He recognized her and shook his head in dismay.

Donna Noble, you should know better. No food allowed in the exhibition area. Why don't you take your lunch down to the canteen like everybody else."

"I'm sorry Rob." Donna replied shakenly, as she tried to control herself. "It's just… this figure…"

The old man looked up at the slate, but didn't seem to notice anything.

"What Donna? Are you not feeling well? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Oh never mind that, Rob, do you know Latin?"

"A little, yes. You can't spend more than 20 years looking at stuff like this without trying to read it."

"Can you tell me what those words on this slate mean?"

Rob squinted his eyes and peered up at the inscription.

"Let me see, it says These are the noble Gods of Ceacellius Pompus, may they watch over his family and his descendents. It's basically a shrine, a family shrine to worship the house gods." He turned back to Donna. "Is there something wrong dear?"

"That woman's face, she looks just like me."

"Really?" Rob raised his eyebrows in amazement, and stooped over to the particular relief. "I can't really see the resemblance here. Are you sure?"

"Rob, she's got a flipping mole, on the left side of her chin. She even got my hair!"

"How could you possibly tell that her hair is red? And are you sure that's a mole? I thought it was just a bump or something."

Obviously, she couldn't convince him, and she returned to her desk after the lunch-break was over, feeling frustrated and upset. She cursed herself for not risking a soaked pair of undies and going to the restaurant after all. For once she had decided to do something cultural and look how much good it had done her. She spent the rest of the afternoon archiving crap, making one mistake after another, till her supervisor, mister Robbins, came to her desk to complain about the typos in the digital version of his manuscript. Normally, he would have spend a good 10 minutes worth of breath to point out Donna's incapacities in a patronizing manner. But today, he took one look at Donna's aggravated face and decided that it would be a very bad idea indeed. He let her off early, telling her that if she was ill, she shouldn't turn up at work to exert herself. Donna actually felt grateful, she did feel a bit flushed, and she certainly didn't want to stick around to get a piece of what's really on that stuck-up twat's mind. She grabbed her stuff and left without even taking the time to turn off her computer, hoping fiercely that the rain had stopped by now.

**_TBC_**

_Next time:_

_We meet a young man who seemed to be lost and in dire need of help, and Donna is roughly awakened from her perpetual mundane life._


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

He accidentally dropped the leather wallet out of his trembling hands. The woman queuing behind him moved away when he staggered as he tried to pick it up. He lost his balance and bumped his shoulder into the man standing in front of him, who turned his head and shot him a nasty look.

"Sorry." He mumbled with a lump caught in his throat.

He took a few steps back away from the aggravated man, and lowered his eyes. Frightened and miserable, he would have loved to turn around and head straight for the exit if it wasn't for that cold familiar feeling that kept churning inside his stomach. He had not eaten for weeks. The warm, wonderful smell of freshly baked bread that hung inside the shop made his head spin and think of nothing else. He watched with hungry eyes how the man in front of him brought a good-sized loaf that crisped in its paper package, and half a dozen of buns, glistening with a thick coat of sugar, and could only regain focus by biting hard on his lower lip.

"Next." The man behind the counter observed his supposed client in ill-concealed discontent. Indeed, he did not look like much, dressed as he was in layers of dirty t-shirts and an oversized coat that had seen better days, with his trousers covered in frightful stains and thinned down to the bare threats at the knees. It was obvious that he was a vagabond who had been sleeping in the streets for a while. His unshaved face was gaunt, his cheeks hollowed out, and his hair hung down his shoulder in greasy strings. The worst part was that he smelled like something dreadful that had been washed out of the sewage. Not exactly the type of customer that one hoped for.

"What can I get for you?" The baker asked, trying to ignore all the things that was offensive to his senses.

"What can I get for this?" The vagabond asked hopefully, and turning the wallet upside down, emptying the entire content. A meager amount of coins rattled over the counter.

"Two six pence? You're joking mate. You can't even buy a packet of croutons for that."

The young man now looked nervous, and checked the inside of the wallet, but there were no banknotes tucked away inside and there were no more coins left.

"I don't have more money." He stated plainly, as if he had only realized this at this very moment.

The baker lifted his eyebrows. "Now then, if you're not buying anything, leave. Next!"

"Wait! Wait! I can give you something else, here." He searched his pockets and showed him a cheap flattened earring that looked like it had been picked up from the streets. "And here." He showed him a plastic lighter, and a dented package of cigarettes. "Please. Take this and the coins. Take the wallet too if you want." He pushed them into the man's hands. "For a piece of bread."

"I don't want your junk." The baker dropped the stuff back on the counter and wiped his hands on the side of his trousers, pulling a disgusted face.

"Please sir. I'm hungry. I just want something to eat."

"Look I'm not a charity institution."

"You heard him." The sour-looking old woman waiting next in line complained. "Now get out of the way. You're holding us up.'

Yeah, get out of the way!" Someone at the back of the queue commented. "I've been standing here for ages."

"I just want some food. Please sir."

"Beggars. They're getting cheekier and cheekier nowadays." The old woman shook her head, and nodded to the baker who was studying the wallet. "Give it back to him and send him away. That stench that's coming off this young man is making me loose my appetite."

"Hang on." The baker flipped through the cards that were tucked inside the wallet. "This isn't yours. Look at the bloke on the ID card." He showed the photo to the other customers. "This looks nothing like him. Besides this thing is packed with credit cards, American express, visa." He stared at the troubled young man, his face drawn into a disapproving frown. "You stole this, didn't you!"

The vagabond stepped back. His eyes suddenly grew wide in panic.

"I…I just…"

"Thief! I bet he's an addict. Look at the state of him." The old woman hissed, her eyes flashing. She caught sight of something that glistened, dangling from a coarse string around his neck, half hidden in folds of the rags of his clothing. "What's this? He's wearing a sliver ring around his neck! Did you stole that too?!"

"No, no, I didn't steal this. I swear." He instinctively grabbed hold of it and kept it close to his heart. "Please… don't…all I wanted was a piece of bread."

The baker shook his head angrily, and grabbed his mobile phone. "I'm calling the police."

His nerves finally gave in. He couldn't take it any longer. With his hand still closed firmly around the ring, he turned and fled into the streets.

**3.**

There was a small park at the back of the museum where he liked to go. Not many people knew about it, and it was usually quiet. He only stopped running when he reached the gate and passed the first trees. With fire burning in his lungs and his heart pacing madly, he walked towards the nearest bench. He sank down, put his head back, and closed his eyes while he listened how the drumming inside his ears slowly quieted down.

The weather was miserably, although it had ceased to rain, it was still very windy and cold. His clothes were damp, and his stomach started complaining again about the lack of food. The recent failure to obtain any made him frustrated to the brink of tears.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he couldn't get anywhere in life. His mind seemed to be governed by fundamental instincts, telling him that he should eat because he was starving, or that he should sleep because he was exhausted, but except for that it was useless in forming any complex ideas. It took him days to figure out that he needed money to pay for food, being chased away from the market when he took an apple from the fruit display. It took him another week to come up with a way to get the money, and still he went hungry. It was as if his thoughts were frozen up, kept in perpetual winter, and spring was nowhere near in sight.

He opened his eyes again, and stared vacantly into the distance, his heart sinking fast into a dark pool of misery. From the corner of his eyes, he saw a pretty young girl passing by. She was walking her dog, arguing with her boyfriend on the phone, and munching down a Mars bar at the same time. She shot a glance at him, but quickly averted her eyes. When she passed by the garbage bin, she pushed her mobile between her shoulder and her ear, and rummaged through her pockets with her free hand to get her half-eaten lunch, a peanut butter sandwich, and threw it away without slowing her pace. He didn't wait till she was out of sight, but jumped right at it. The girl turned around, saw what he was doing and pulled a disgusted face, hastily walking away. He searched through the pile of rotting old news papers and empty soda cans till he found the parcel. He ripped the plastic off and took a hungry mouthful, wolfing it down. He was about to take a second bite when someone tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked back he received a nasty punch in his lower jaw, and the sheer force of it send him thrashing backwards. Before he could look up and see who had done this to him, a second blow hit him in the side of the head. A hand reached out and pulled hard at the string around his neck. Frightened and reacting purely on instinct, he grabbed hold of the silver ring and pushed it against his chest protectively.

"Give it here you nutcase." An overgrown, hooded teenager was staring down at him with a mix of fear and excitement on his freckled face. He and his mate had followed him from the shop to the small park. Unlike him, they were indeed addicts, and saw in him an easy target for robbery. The boy tugged on the rope and he felt it snap behind his neck, but he kept holding on to the ring as if for dear life. This angered his young attacker, and the boy kicked him in his stomach. The young delinquent bend down while he was still paralyzed with pain, and tried to pry the jewel out of his hands.

" Hey! Let go I said!"

But the young man wouldn't give in. He pushed the boy's hand up to his mouth and bit down hard. His attacker yelled out in pain, and he was just able to pull the ring away from him when the other boy came into action and slapped one hand around his neck, while with the other he drove a knife into his stomach. Pain erupted, so intense that it dissolved all of his strength, and he collapsed to ground. Clutching onto his belly, his fingers soon became drenched with the blood gushing out of the fresh flesh wound. The knife was still stuck inside, and the boy who had stabbed him looked at it nervously, as if not certain if he should recollect it or not.

His mate trashed back, and stared up at him in shock.

"What the hell did you do that for?" He screamed, his voice trembling and sounding strangely high-pitched.

"He was attacking you!"

"Jesus! Man, look at all that blood!"

The fear turned into blind panic when a scream came from the other side of the park. A red haired woman had seen the incident, and was running towards them. The hooded boy backed away a few steps, tugging on his mate's arm.

"I didn't want to kill him." His friend stammered. "Fuck, Ed, is he dead?" He turned around but his accomplice was already on the run. "Ed! Wait for me!" He yelled, and rushed after him.

**4.**

Donna didn't the see the faces of the boys, but she recognized the injured man lying on the ground in front of her. She had seen him before. She knew he was homeless, she had seen him sleeping outside in the park, and digging through the garbage bins during her lunchtimes. She had never really noticed him though, never spoken to him, or offered any help. He was just another faceless victim of this urban jungle, and she, Donna Noble, never had felt obliged before to take a moment of her busy life to open her eyes to such human misery. Not until today that was.

"Oh my God. Are you alright?" He could not lift his head to look her in the face, but even to his pain-dazed mind, this sounded like a really dumb question. She put her hand on his shoulder. "You're going to be alright." She promised in a soothing voice. "I'm getting help." When her hand lifted again, the vacant place on his skin felt strangely cold. In fact, his whole body, his legs, his feet, his face and his arms and hands, seemed to be turning into ice, all of it except for the burning sliver of agony that ran across his belly.

Donna called an ambulance, and waited by his side till they arrived. She took off her own coat and wrapped it around him. "There, I got you now. It's alright. They are coming soon." He was very tired, his eyes slowly veiled. He noticed that when she caressed his face, that her hands left like burning lumps of coal.

"Don't sleep." She said. "Stay awake. What's your name?"

His eyes fluttered.

She repeated the question. "Mine is Donna. Tell me, what's your name?"

His mouth opened and closed, like a fish on dry land. His voice was small.

"I…I don't know."

After that, he did not speak again, and darkness followed swiftly.

_**TBC**_

Next time:

Donna gets her hands on the silver ring, and the Master dies to be reborn.


	3. Chapter 3

**5.**

Once the ambulance arrived everything happened so fast that later, much later, Donna couldn't exactly recall how she ended up with the silver ring inside her pocket. It must have fallen out of his hand when the paramedics lifted the injured man onto the gurney, or he must have lost it earlier when the kids attacked him. She couldn't remember picking it up, or finding it lying somewhere in the gravel. It was only when she was sitting in the police station, giving her account of what had happened to the nice young police officer with the quirky smile and dark eyebrows and the nice lips, that she put her hands in her pocket and discovered that she had it. She felt the smoothness of the cool metal brush against her finger tips, and for a moment she looked puzzled. All she was supposed to have in that pocket was an old crumbled Kleenex and a sticky sweet.

"Something wrong, miss?" The handsome officer asked, raising his dashing eyebrows in the most attractive sort of way.

"Wrong?" She fluttered her eyes. "No nothing is wrong. Except for what for had happened of course. That was awful."

"It was very brave of you to intervene."

"I didn't do anything, really." Donna's face flushed. She took her hand out of her pocket.

"Kids these days, they could have carried anything. I would hate to see something happen to someone like you."

Donna's cheeks are becoming even more flushed. If it wasn't for the fact that she felt quite miserable, she would have jumped on him and planted a big smacker on those gorgeous lips. "Hope he's all right." She said. "Did you hear anything from the hospital yet?"

"No miss, but I could make a note and let one of us call you when we know anything."

"Yeah." Donna nodded. "I would like that. Poor man."

Her head felt warm and horrid, as if it was stuffed with cheap isolation material. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure that the hot flushes she felt were only related to how good the officer sitting at the other side of the desk looked.

"I think we're done with the report. Mind you, my colleagues might have to contact you next week when there is a problem with the investigation, I hope that's not inconvenient."

"Oh no, that's fine." She took a deep breath and felt how a slow headache started to hammer inside her skull. "I'm glad to help."

The officer rose from his chair, and shook her hand. "Are you sure you're alright miss?" He asked in concern, noticing how hot she felt.

"Well, I don't know. It's just… I've a terrible headache."

"You look like you might have caught the flu. It could also be shock caused by emotional distress. It's the way how our body copes with this kind of unpleasant situation."

"I suppose so."

"You know what. If you just wait here, I'll get a colleague to finish this for me and I'll bring you home. The traffic at this time of the day is awful but if I turn on the serene we will be in Cheswick in no time."

If it wasn't for the awful headache terrorizing her, Donna would have melted at the spot, and fainted in the guy's arms. "Oh that would be great." She said, as gracefully as she could, and smiled sourly. Why couldn't she get a response of a good-looking bloke like him on any normal day? One on which she didn't had the feeling that she was going to puke out her liquefied brains anytime soon? What was this, some kind of sick cosmic joke?

She didn't have much time to muse about it for long. Although she promised herself that she would definitely ask for the officer's phone number, she passed out in the back seat instead as soon as she got into the police car. She didn't wake up till they pulled over in her own street. When her granddad came out and helped her into the house together with the young officer, all she could say to him before he left was some gargled dribble about a woman on a stone relief in the museum that had stolen her mole. It didn't exactly make the right romantic impression. The officer left soon afterwards, visibly confused.

**7.**

His eyes opened, slowly, as he woke from a dreamless sleep. His mind dreaded it, telling him that it was better to stay far away from consciousness. His body didn't listen thought, and slowly, certainly and painfully, he was sucked back into reality through a straw. There was a blitzkrieg of voices, all around him. Shadows of people in green, running on and off. Harsh, artificial light, shining in his face.

"Hang on mate, you're going to be all right."

He didn't think so. He felt cold, although his entire body was wrapped up in a plastic bag to contain the temperature. A large, open-jawed snake rushed right at him, trying to swallow his head. No, it was not a snake, it was an oxygen mask. He could hear his own breathing rasp against the tube.

"Look at his heartbeats per minute. It can't be."

"His blood pressure is off the charts as well."

More questioning voices, more amazed comments. Someone adjusted the belt around his arm, surely the measurements were incorrect. Surely, there was something wrong with the machinery. They loosened it and fastened it again, turned the apparatus off and on, it didn't help. The same signals, the same insanely high numbers.

"What are we going to do?"

"Stitch him up quickly, He needs a blood transfusion."

"What? With that blood pressure?"

"He lost at least two liters of blood. Besides, those numbers can't be accurate. Call the blood bank for three bags of O neg."

When they tried to stick an IV needle inside his arm, he panicked. It was something with the blood, packed neatly inside transparent bags that dangled above his head like heavy fruit from a tree, that made him jump. Something was terribly wrong with it. Hands, coming from every direction, holding him down. Another needle in his arm, injecting a river of ice into his veins. He froze up, his muscles, his limbs, everything became heavy and useless. He tried to warn them, yelled inside the snake's mouth, but his words were sucked down into the tube.

The IV needle went in. The blood started to drip. He watched with hollow eyes as the bloody fruits above his head bled into his body and slowly destroyed him.

At 10:00 PM, the surgeons believed that they had saved their patient, and send him down to the trauma ward to recover.

At 10:30 PM, his temperature suddenly climbed, as his immune system reacted against the transfused blood, and started killing off not only the new blood cells, but also his own.

At 11:04 PM, his body went into shock. With every artery of his body dilating, his blood pressure dropped dramatically. His two hearts had to overcompensate by beating twice as fast, and one of them soon decided it had enough, and stopped working.

The doctors didn't have a clue why it happened, but recognized the symptoms nevertheless. Mismatched blood transfusion, it shouldn't have happened with O negative blood. They removed the IV, but didn't know what to give him instead. Besides, it was already too late.

At 11:43 PM, his second heart stopped beating, and the patient was dead.

**8.**

Donna was sleeping inside her bedroom. She dreamt feverously. They were confusing dreams, a whirlwind of voices, faces, and places, and nothing made sense. Monsters, creatures that looked like nightmares turned into flesh, songs echoing over vast valleys covered in a blanket of virgin white snow, a huge library filled with books and shadows. A man, a tall, handsome man, standing in front of a blue box, the features of his face lost in the bright blinding light. He snapped his fingers, the box closed, and she was left in darkness.

These were dreams of fire, flames leaping up at her, the heat scorching her face. She turned and toiled in bed, drenched in sweat. A spider, a mother queen, trapped in an inferno, her cries ringing in Donna's ears as she arched her back and raised her front legs to the sky in agony.

"Doctor! Stop now, please. Stop it now!"

The man of the blue box stared down at Donna. His face was devoid of any emotions.

"Doctor!" She screamed.

And then it started to rain, cool, wonderful rain. Cold against her hot skin, like ice. A wind swept her hair back, and she was standing on a rocky hillside where down below was a field of rockets. They were ticking time-bombs, cultivated so lovingly for destruction and death. She held a black box in her hand. One push on the button and these beautiful flowers will bloom. Nothing could stop her. But the man of the blue box raised his hand. Give me the remote, he said. You can't do it. You never could. He knew her so well. She despised him for that. Nothing would satisfy her more than to prove him wrong. But she couldn't. She handed over the remote, and she lost control. Now she was defeated. Now she was his prisoner. She would rather die.

A shot in the dark, a smoking pistol. She fell. She fell backwards and into his arms. The man of the blue box. Now he looked sad. How ironic. He begged her to stay with him. Nothing would satisfy her more than to make him grief and regret. This man of the blue box, her enemy and friend.

She woke up past midnight to find her sleep shirt soaked in sweat. Everything in the room turned and swirled. She realized that she was ill, really ill. She needed a doctor. Her body felt like a furnace, as if she had swallowed the sun. She could hear her blood rushing in her veins, and her heart drumming in her ears. _I'm going to die_, she thought, _Oh my God, I need to stop, I'm burning up. _

She crawled out of bed.

_I need to cool down, I need to stop. Where is the rain? Where is the rain to qench the flames?_

Voices, so many voices, all of them were from the man of the blue box, spilling out a thousand words per microsecond, cramping her aching head. She pressed her hands onto her ears. It didn't help. There was so much that she came to know, too much, she stumbled into the dark room without direction or purpose, she needed to cool down, she needed rain and ice.

A single voice, rising above the turmoil, calling out to her. It wasn't the man of the blue box, but someone else.

"Take the ring." It whispered. "Take it and it will stop."

She swaggered to the corner of the room where her mom had laid out her clothes over a chair. She sank down her knees in front of it and with trembling, sweaty hands, she searched her pockets, remembering the cool smooth surface of the silver ring.

She wrapped her fingers around it, and immediately, the fire rushed out of her, and ran through her veins, down her arm and hand and into the ring. Her mind cleared, the man of the blue box vanished out of her head. Her heart quieted down, and her temperature cooled to normal. She stared down at the ring that glowed brightly orange with heat, and dropped it when it burned into the palm of her hand. It left and angry red circle on her skin. She blinked her eyes, and studied it, stunned, as if it was only now that she had awakened from her bad dreams. On the floorboards, the ring glowed brightly, then weakly, before it finally dimmed.

**9.**

Somewhere hidden away deep underground in a secret nameless bunker, a young man was studying the numbers and figures streaming over one of the six computer screens surrounding him. He watched and waited impatiently while the program churned out the data. His throat felt strangely dry when his senior officer came in. He stood up from his chair and saluted him. His boss couldn't fail to notice that the young private's hand was slightly trembling.

"Rest soldier. So, what's going on?"

"Sir, it's the automatic screening system for the national medical databases. A man was brought into the Saint Michael's hospital in London today. The medical report states that he has a binary cardiovascular system."

"Two hearts? Are you sure?"

The young officer nodded nervously. "The doctors only found out about it after he died. He was brought in with a potentially fatal stab wound, they didn't screen him immediately, but they did notice that he had very unusual physiological parameters during the operation. They examined his body after he died of shock. Something to do with a mismatch in blood type."

"Dear lord. It's…it's not him, is it?" The senior officer asked, hesitantly.

"No sir." The young officer answered. "It's not the Doctor. But…we did find a match in the Unit Alien-Enemy database."

The relief that had washed over the senior officer's face quickly disappeared.

"It's not…it can't be." His face darkened. "He's dead. According to the Torchwood files he was executed on board of the Valiant. It can't be him."

"I couldn't believe it myself, sir." The young officer answered, and turned to the keyboard to activate the standby files. "But I used these pictures extracted from the hospital's security camera. See, here he is, being brought in." He showed the footage to his superior, and then clicked on the extracted picture with an extreme close-up of the man's face. "I fed these into the database and this is what the AE identified." He pointed at the screen. A picture of Harold Saxon, his face mapped by digital lines and dots, flashed over and merged with the picture of the unidentified patient. The message that appeared on the screen was loud and clear.

"It's a 100 match sir."

His supervisor stared blankly at the violently flashing screen that lit up with numerous warning codes like the lights in the devil's Christmas tree. Any hope that the boy had made a mistake, had been completely wiped away in the last few minutes.

"Sir, I'm afraid it's him. It's…"

"It's the Master. God help us all." The senior officer whispered. He turned around. "Alarm the Unit headquarters and get the London units ready. We have to act immediately. Code 005."

"Code 005? But the hospital records say that he's dead sir." The young officer said. "Surely, he's less of a threat now. Maybe something killed him before he could regenerate."

"We thought he was dead already, private. Now he pops up and dies for a second time. I don't think we can afford to underestimate the abilities of the Timelord race. Code 005. And no more questions."

The young officer saluted this senior before he returned back to the computer screen. With sweaty hands, he typed in the code and sent it out to the Unit headquarters all over the world.

**10.**

Donna could no longer sleep. She stayed up and parted the curtains to watch the sky turn from complete darkness, into continuous lighter hues of blue, till the first silver rimmed clouds appeared at the horizon. She dressed herself, and with the ring kept safely inside her pocket, she grabbed her coat and the car keys and went outside, carefully closing the door behind her to not wake her mom and granddad. Sitting in Silvia's car, she considered for a moment the absurdity of the situation, with her sneaking out so early in the morning without telling her family where she went. She was not a teenager anymore, and to her own judgment, she wasn't going to do something stupid or dangerous.

It was just that it was too weird to explain.

_So let me reconsider this, you're really going to the hospital to seek out a complete stranger, and you're gonna hassle the poor bloke with weird questions about this ring you accidentally took from him while he was wallowing in pain and bleeding to death in the streets. And that's because for some insane reason, you have come to believe that his little trinket has probably saved your life…_

_Right._

Maybe she was going to do something stupid after all.

She turned the key in the ignition, and drove the car into the direction of the hospital.

**11.**

Albert Ansley was a not man who was easily excited, and he had good reasons for being so. In all those years that he had been working as a coroner at the Saint Michael's hospital, he had seen almost everything, from people who have died in bloody car accidents, or hollowed eyed junkies who overdosed, to suicide jumpers whose brains he had to scrape from the bottom of the body bags. The causes of death were hardly ever enticing to him, except for the odd deadly virus that pops its head around once in a while. When he was a younger doctor, Albert had aspired a shining career in science where he could put his extensive knowledge of the human anatomy in good use. Working as a coroner was just a temporary job till something better came available in one of the more acclaimed academic hospitals. Now he was in his late fifties, and except for one or two publications in the little known London Medical Correspondence, had not exactly made a name for himself in the scientific community. His wife knew about his frustrations, and didn't make a fuss about it. Just another 5 years or so, she thought, and then he could stop working and go into early retirement. They had already been saving for a charming little farmhouse in the south of France.

It struck her therefore as odd when one morning, she found her husband jumping out of bed with all the enthusiasm of his former younger self.

"Where are you going Albert?" She asked sleepily.

"To work." He said, while he was wrestling into his pants.

"To work? But it's 4:00 AM. And you only came home three hours ago."

"Yes I know dear." He gave her a peck on the cheek. "Someone special was brought in yesterday. I need more time to get a better look at him."

He drove to the hospital, taking shortcuts through the now almost deserted London streets while whistling along with the golden oldies on the radio. Meanwhile, his mind was turning, working up an extensive protocol of how to perform the vivisection step by step. Everything needed to be perfectly recorded, weighed and measured, for this was going to be his long awaited scientific triumph. An exciting case study, no longer for some insignificant local journal, but for a publication in the internationally acclaimed journals of Science and Nature. A description of a 30-year-old male with a functional binary cardiac system. It had never been reported before. Finally, he would get the acknowledgement that he had longed for all those years.

He parked his car three meters away from the hospital's entrance, and swirled down the stairs with the frivolous steps of a young medical student. The mortuary was in the cellar of the institute, kept out of sight from the public's eyes. He swiped his security card to get pass through the double doors and entered his domain. The air was stale, for there were no windows. Sterile light shone down from the ugly high ceiling where the innards of the building, the pipes and electrical circuits, lay open for everyone to see. He entered the cold-room where the temperature was kept on at a chilly 10 degrees, it was enough to keep the biological processes of decay from catching up with his work. On the stainless steel table lay the body of the patient who had died only six hours ago. He was still in his hospital-gown, his lower half was discreetly covered with a green cloth.

There was a tall drawer with instruments in the corner of the room. On the table next to it was an old CD player with a stack of classical CDs. Albert turned it on and Gustav's Holst's The planets suit sounded through the deserted place. He put on his white coat, latex gloves and blue paper mask, and hummed along with the music while he took out his instruments, smooth stainless steel glistening in the artificial light, as he arranged them in an orderly row on a green cloth.

When he was ready with his preparations he went over to the table, and spoke into his voice recorder.

"Body of patient number 126605, examined by doctor Albert Ansley at 16:46 AM, 12th of august 2008."

He removed the cloth and cut the gown open, exposing the bare skin.

"Subject is male, approximately 30 years old, identity unknown. Died last night at 11:45 PM after he went into shock. Preliminary diagnosis of the cause of death is a severe autoimmune reaction in response to mismatched blood transfusion from an O negative donor. "

"Which shouldn't have happened." He mumbled, but he continued.

"Subject was brought in at 8:54 PM, with a stab wound in the lower abdomen at the left side, which had caused severe blood loss. Blood pressure and number of heartbeats per minute were remarkably high…"

Directly after the body was brought in, Doctor Johnson had informed him about the diseased patient's unusual physiology. He didn't believed him at first, but after he had studied the patient's medical files, the coroner's curiosity took the better of him and he had immediately put the body under the MRI for a quick internal examination. The high-resolution pictures taken from that session were more than clear. The man had a binary cardiac system. Two hearts, which based on the perfect anatomical features of the organs, must have functioned perfectly during his life. Albert's own old heart had skipped a beat at that moment of discovery, only to continue in a joyous, and excited pace. It had not rested since.

He had saved the files not only in the hospital's database, but also on his own PC, and took hardcopies of it home with him. Now, he needed to conduct a full examination, dissect the hearts and preserve them in fixatives. He wanted to keep them in perfect condition.

He stopped talking into the recorder, everything that was important to note had been said. New findings were awaiting him, new discoveries to be unraveled, lying just underneath the surface of this man's skin.

He took a fine, sharp scalpel in his skilled right hand, and with the precision and gentleness of an artist brushing over his canvas, cut a thin red line over the middle of the sternum. When the cut had reached the lower half of the chest, a small sigh suddenly parted from the dead man's lips. Albert stopped for a moment, and stared at the patient's face.

He picked up his voice recorder and noted that the subject had air trapped inside his lungs, which was not uncommon for people who died in full consciousness and were gasping for the last breath of air before their body shut down. He wasn't alarmed by it and continued to work.

His knife slit down, an ice skater over a smooth cool surface, till he reached the arches of the ribcage. He followed the natural curves, creating an upside down Y on the chest. Then he took a sturdy pair of forceps and lifted a corner of the skin, and carefully, he used his scalpel to peel off the skin from the layer of muscles underneath.

He stopped when he noticed that the chest suddenly rose and fell, as if the body was fighting to breathe. Albert blinked his eyes. Spasm, he told himself, it was spasm of the deteriorating muscles. The last contractions of dying tissues. But for some reason that he couldn't explain even to himself, he shot a nervous glance at the man's face, and saw, just for a fraction of a second, that the eyelids fluttered.

"Oh." Albert's face turned pale. He took off his gloves and rubbed his hand against his eyes. "This is madness. I didn't see that."

Suddenly, an old childhood memory came back to him. Albert Ansley was 10 years old and was about to dissect a frog in biology class. He killed the animal in the ether pot, and had it pinned down on a slap of wood. He had carefully followed the instructions of his teacher, cutting it open from the neck down to the belly, exposing all the shiny pink and purple innards for examination. He was using his forceps to unravel the intestines when the frog suddenly twitched its long legs. It wasn't dead, and woke up from its ether-induced sleep with its belly sliced open and its guts spread out over young Albert's desk.

It had been a horrid sight.

Albert watched, horrified, how the eyes of the man that he had presumed to be dead drew open. A choking sound came from his mouth, and his lips moved as if he was trying to speak. A hand rose up and hovered over the hideous wound that he had created. As if it was the hand of a blind man, it touched the exposed muscles and strips of peeled off skin, trembling fingers feeling its way through the devastation. The former dead man took a deep breath and threw his head back, the eyes were now fully open and conscious of the immense pain. A pitiful cry came from him, which was too weak to be heard outside this isolated room, but sufficiently terrible to send the hairs at the back of Albert's neck arise.

The man's eyes, filled with fright and confusion, met Albert's and he had to quickly turn away. "No no no no no. You can't be alive. I didn't… I didn't cut into you while you were still alive." He clutched onto his medical utensils, and accidentally cut himself in the hand.

"Shit! Shit Albert!"

Then he remembered what he had done with the frog. Albert Ansley was not a violent or a cruel man, but the very idea that he was responsible for the suffering of another living being, made him sick to stomach and filled him, at the same time, with blind stinking panic. He grabbed hold of the largest scalpel that he could find and realized that he had to stab him right in the heart if he wanted to end his misery. He turned back to the table where his victim was now fully awake, and was shaking violently of the pain he had to endure. The young man stared up at him with eyes ablaze with fear as the good coroner raised the blade with two hands in the air.

Albert didn't immediately feel the pain when one of his own treasured scalpels that he had left on the table slit his throat, severing his main arteries. He staggered back with the scalpel still raised in his hands but with all purpose of its action lost, while the blood splashed out of his neck like a crazy lemonade fountain. The man on the table dropped the blood-drenched scalpel and lifted his foot to kick him in the stomach, and the doctor tumbled backwards to the floor.

The last conscious thought that came into doctor Albert Ansley's mind just before it ceased to be, was that of the dead frog, which he had decapitated with a pair of scissors when he was a kid.

**TBC**

Next time:

UNIT and Donna are on their way to the recently resurrected Master, who will get there first?


	4. Chapter 4

**12.**

He didn't need to get down to feel for the man's pulse to know that he was dead. The way he looked, the soulless vacant expression, and his eyes rolled back in the sockets, said enough. The fear that had taken control over him finally receded. He raised himself half up, and winced as he saw what the coroner had done. Now that his circulation started to flow again, the blood was gushing out of the cuts in narrow streams and puddled underneath his back. He took a white piece of cloth from the steel tray on the table and used it to press his folds of skin back against the flesh, closing the wound. It hurt like hell and he had to press his hand against his mouth to dampen the screams. Searching through the dead doctor's collection of medical instruments, he found a thick, bended needle and a roll of sterile thread. He took another piece of cloth and rolled it up tightly before he pushed it between his teeth. He then used the needle and the thread to sew the strips of skin together.

Somehow he had survived the horrible knife wound, the cardiovascular shock, and the dissection of the late doctor. And somehow, his mind seemed to have changed. No longer did it act on instincts alone. He could think. He could react. He could diagnose a problem and find a solution for it, even within a very short limit of time if he had to. It was that change that had occurred inside his head that had saved him from Albert Ansley. He wasn't exactly brilliant. His brains worked on the same capacity as that of any other normal human being, although he was perhaps just a little more clever than the average person. But for the young man who had lived for months in the darkness of ignorance, barely surviving as he tried to scrape a living in the underbelly of society, this new intelligence came as a ray of light in what would have been otherwise a continuation of a sad and savage existence.

When his wounds were closed and he believed that he had rested enough to not to pass out of pain, he swung his legs over the side of the table and tried to stand. He picked up the green cloth from the floor while deliberately avoiding doctor's Ansley's eyes, and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders. Then he limped towards the double doors, wincing with every step he took while his feet slipped constantly over wet stains of blood that seemed to have splashed over every surface of the room. He had reached halfway when suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from the other side of the double doors. He stumbled back, and hid himself behind the operation table. Crouching down next to Ansley's corpse, he held in his breath and listened.

**13.**

"Here we are miss Noble. Your brother should be in the next room." The young nurse informed, looking at the poor woman with much compassion. "I'm sorry that doctor Johnson or doctor Ansley aren't here to speak to you so early in the morning." She hesitated for a moment and reconsidered, since this was not the standard procedure. "Perhaps you should wait for them before you go in."

Donna faked another tear and pressed the crumbled Kleenex against her cheek. "No, no. I need to see him now." She shook her head and bit on her lower lip, acting all teary eyed and emotional. "You see, I was never there for him when he was alive. I left him all alone, living in the streets with no one to take care of him. And now this." She burst into a good cry that deeply upset the kindhearted, but naïve young nurse, and she soon evoked the right kind of reaction from her, as the nurse put an arm over her shoulder and offered her a fresh Kleenex.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You can go in and see him. I'll explain everything to doctor Ansley when he comes in. He is not too bad, he'll understand."

"Thank you." Donna hiccupped between two wails, and blew her nose loudly.

She waited till the nurse had left before she wiped the forced tears from her face. She was surprised that she could lie with such an ease, although she did watch a flippin lot of Eastenders on the telly. After she had found out from the night nurse of the trauma ward that the man she was looking for had died, she quickly came up with this plan to convince her that she was family. She didn't want to get the gentle girl into any trouble, but she had to get in. She needed to see him for reasons she did not understand herself, and the fact that she did indeed feel sorry for the poor man, helped her out in the drama department.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and pushed the doors open.

Cold air slammed into her face, cooling down her damp cheeks. She walked towards the middle of room where a steel operation table stood. It was empty. A white human shape lay underneath, half hidden in the shadows. When she came closer she noticed the pool of blood around the man's head, and she saw the large red stain running from his neck down into the collar and the fabric of his white coat. Donna let out a cry. Her eyes caught sight of a something that moved in the shadows behind the corpse. She turned around immediately, but a hand snatched her leg. She lost balance and she fell face down, right on top of the deceased doctor.

She would have screamed her lungs out if it wasn't for the Master grabbing hold of her and pressing his hand against her mouth to shut her up.

"Ssst! Stop it!" He hissed. "Someone gonna hear you!"

Donna couldn't breathe. The Master's hand had covered over her nose. She shook her head violently and tried to kick and slap at him, but he forced her against Ansley's chest, pinning her down under his weight.

"Now stop it! Stop it and I'll let go."

She shut up, and looked at him, frightened to death. Then she recognized his face. It was the man who was stabbed yesterday. He stared back at her, with a look in his eyes that told her that he was almost as equally frightened as she was.

"So I'll let go of you now. But no screams. Right." He lifted his hand and Donna swallowed a lungful of air. She was still pinned down, sandwiched between this madman and a corpse. "What do you want?" She asked, her voice trembling, and then, remembering on what kind of lovely soft surface she was lying on. "Did you kill him?"

He didn't get the time to answer her question. The doors swept open, and rows of black military boots marched in. He panicked and pulled her further under the table. When she resisted, he grabbed a bloody scalpel from the floor and held it against her throat.

"Please! Don't!"

"Don't struggle!" He commanded, but his voice sounded lost, and scared. "Don't move!"

The soldiers of Unit peered under the operation table, and saw the Master, huddled in the corner, holding Donna in front of him as a human shield. They didn't hesitate one second to point their guns at his head.

"Let go of her." On of them ordered.

"No!" He yelled, pressing the blade into Donna's neck. "Leave me alone and let me go!"

The soldier who had been standing in the front line turned to his captain, but the senior officer only shook his head.

"We are not negotiating with you Master. Whether you let go of her or not, we are going to take you in. If there going to be fatal casualties, then so be it."

"Oy, thanks very much for trying so hard to save my life!" Donna yelled sarcastically. She looked at him. "The Master? Why do they call you that?"

He breathed in loudly through his nose and raised his chin. "I don't know." He muttered. "I don't remember. Do I need to remember?" He looked at her with a lost expression on his face.

"Master, this is your final warning. Let go of your hostage and come out with your hands empty and raised up in the air. Or we will start firing."

"I don't remember anything, you bastards!" He yelled from the top of his lungs, fear and panic getting the better of him. "Why can't you leave me alone!" He stared back at Donna, the knife clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turned white. He put more pressure on the blade.

"No! No please don't!" Donna begged, fighting an uncontrollable flood of real tears now. "I saved you! Don't you remember me? You were stabbed by these kids, and I came to help you! Please, please don't hurt me!"

"Master!" The captain called. "This is your final warning. Come out now!"

"Don't hurt me." Donna cried. He hesitated, and Donna felt the cold sharp point of the blade lift from her neck. He looked her in the eyes and a hint of recognition slowly came into his mind.

"You told me your name." He furrowed his brows as he remembered. "You told me your name was Donna."

"Yes!" She nodded, fervently. Yes! Donna Noble!"

The Master lifted his head and shot a frightened glance at the Unit soldiers.

"Fire!" The captain ordered determinedly, and the room exploded in a rain of bullets, smoke and noise.

There was only a fraction of a second to react and to consider. He pushed Donna behind the massive table legs and dived after her, but the bullets pierced through him twice before he was down on the floor.

Lying on his side, with his view of the world equally turned a 90 degrees, he watched helplessly how the black boots closed in on him.

**14.**

Back in the secret bunker, deep underground, the young private is once again watching over his six screens. The screen on his left hand side showed the point of view of a security camera inside a cell that was empty except for a wooden table and two plastic chairs. A woman in her early thirties, ginger hair, and an aggravated expression on her face, sat in one of them. Once in a while, she would look straight into the camera, and yell something nasty at who-ever was sitting at the other side, telling them to let her go. That she had done nothing wrong and she had the right to one phone call and if not, she would at least expected a decent cup of coffee, thank you very much. The young private ignored her abuse for most of the time, for he was too busy with working himself into yet another mental crisis. He had taken the arrest photo from the woman and had fed it into the EA data based. Initially, he was relieved that the comparison analysis came out negative. At least she was not dangerous. But then, the program did find a link to the classified Torchwood files. When he opened them, he found out that the woman's name wasn't Joanna Smith, as she had claimed after her arrest. She had lied to them. Her real name was Donna Noble, and about Donna Noble, such a bookwork on data was present in the classified files that it almost exceeded that of the Master. He went through all of it, absorbing one amazing fact about her after the other, and only stopped reading once in a while to glance at the woman in the cell in disbelief.

"God." He muttered to himself when he was finally finished. "That woman is a bloody hero."

"Private Lawson." Lawson turned, his military reflexes kicking in like clockwork, and he jumped up from his chair and saluted his officer. "Yes sir, yes captain Montgomery."

The captain studied the computer screens of the private's workstation. "What were you doing? I gave you orders to keep an eye on that Smith woman and screen her with the EA program. What is this?"

He peered over the private's shoulder at a left-open windowbox on one of the screens. It showed a file format that he did not recognize.

"Yes sir. I did what you ordered. I was watching her. I also ran a scan in the EA database. She came out negative."

"Just what I expected." The captain said, but there was clear relief in his voice. "She must be one of his new companions, a replacement for Lucy Cole. Honestly, how all these mad women can find themselves attracted to that vicious monster is a complete mystery to me."

"Sir, there was link to another data file." He pointed at the woman in the screen who was now pacing around in the small cell impatiently. "She lied to us. Her name is not Joanna Smith, but Donna Noble. According to the Torchwood files, she was a companion, not of the Master, but of the Doctor."

"Donna Noble?" The captain stepped up to the screen and moved the mouse over the right corner of the document. The Torchwood emblem appeared. "You broke into the Torchwood classified files?"

"I cracked the code sir, I don't know what's going on over there but their whole security shield is down. It used to be impossible to breach into their database but now it's as leaky as a sieve."

"You shouldn't have done that! Destroy that file immediately!"

"But the woman is a hero, sir! She saved us from the Dalek invasion and was a key figure in the destruction of the Dalek fleet. Surely we must notify the Unit seniors about her."

"Oh, they already know." The captain answered, and turned to explained to the astounded young private. "Captain Jack informed us right after the Doctor had returned the earth back to the solar system. Donna Noble is indeed a hero. That woman had saved us all." Captain Montgomery stared down at Donna, who was back in the chair and kicking the table out of frustration and boredom. "Such remarkable deeds for an seemingly unremarkable woman." He spoke softly to himself.

The private's face lit up. "But then we can just explain to her that we are on her side, right? She must understand that Unit is fighting to protect the earth from alien danger. She could help us with the Master and tell us what we need to know."

The captain shook his head.

"Didn't you read the protocol at the end of the document? We must not remind her of the Doctor! Something happened during the battle against the Daleks. She remembers nothing, and doesn't know that she used to be the Doctor's companion."

"But then how are we going to interrogate her? And what exactly happens if she does remember?"

"Look, I told you already too much. Can you just follow my orders? Delete the file, close the Torchwood database and sealed it so no one can access it any longer." The captain slammed his hand on the keyboard, making the private jump. He pointed a finger at the young man. "And don't mention any of this to anyone, understood? What Unit needs are good obedient soldiers, not a solitary smart aleck that wrecks databases in his paid time."

The private diverted his eyes from the captain's angry gaze. "Yes sir. I'm sorry sir." He said, ruefully. He sat back behind his station, and started to delete the Torchwood files.

**15.**

Just when she had decided that it didn't matter at all what she did inside her cell, that no-one was going to come and pay any attention to her, an elderly military officer marched in. He saluted her, called her "mam" and told her that they should sit down and talk.

Donna stared at him angrily. "It was about time. I thought you were going to let me die of boredom in here."

Captain Montgomery removed his hat, ran his fingers through his silver hair and placed the hat on the table.

"Miss Smith. I'm sorry that we have to contain you here, but we needed to make sure that you are not involved."

"As far as I'm concerned, I am indeed involved, in some military kidnapping scheme that is. I let you know that I know my rights. I have done nothing wrong and you cannot hold me here for longer than 24 hours without a proper legal reason." She sneered. She didn't watch all those episodes of Ashes to Ashes without learning one or two things.

"I'm afraid that you are arrested by a special division of the military force, and not by the police. You don't have legal protection here."

Donna had to swallow hard. "You don't scare me." She bluffed. "You with your bunch of bully GI Joeys."

"We don't mean you harm. We just need you to cooperate."

She crossed her arms, leaned back and looked away in contempt. "I don't know anything."

"We saved you from that madman."

"You ordered your soldier boys to shoot me."

"We had no choice. We needed to contain him."

"Where is he? What the heck did you do to him?"

"He is contained, all according to the protocol of code 005."

"What is that suppose to mean?" Donna leaned forward, facing the captain with a face that burned hot with adrenalin.

The captain ran his fingers over the rim of his hat, and studied Donna's response.

"Miss Smith. He's a very dangerous man. He has committed more monstrosities that you could possible imagine. You shouldn't be so concerned about him." He leaned forward. His face was now so close to hers that she could count every line on his forehead. "He is murderer, miss Smith." He whispered to her, his voice sounded sincerely worried. "Please, don't let yourself conjure up any sympathy for the devil."

Donna felt the hairs in the back of her neck rise, but didn't show any sign of unease to the captain. She looked back at Montgomery's steel gray eyes and spoke without a quiver in her voice. "You want my cooperation. Fine. Take me to see him, and then I'll tell you everything I know."

**16.**

She believed that she had gone mad, bluffing like that right in the face of a military commander from whose orders her life was depending on. And why was she so concerned about that homicidal madman who had attacked in the mortuary? The chief of these G.I. Joeys clowns was partly right. He did threaten to kill her. Only he didn't, and she actually had the idea that he had saved her from the gunfire by pushing her out of harm's way. Surely that did evoke some sympathy for the crazy man, but was that anywhere near enough to risk her own life for his?

What the hell was she actually doing?

She felt slightly dizzy again, and almost instinctively, she reached down her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of the Master's ring. The captain let two armed men guide them out of her cell and down into a dark corridor. There were no windows or doors. The damp and earthy smell of rotting vegetation, told her that they must be somewhere underground. She looked at the captain walking beside her, trying not to show that she felt intimidated.

"This way, miss Smith." The captain smiled politely, and rest his hand behind his back.

They turned the corner into yet another dark and damp hallway. There was very little light, and she found it difficult to take up her surroundings. This passage way had no doors and windows either. So there goes my hope for a big green flashy sigh with exit on it. She thought. They must have hidden all the passages behind these concrete blocks.

Indeed, they stopped right in front of an apparently normal wall. The captain placed his hand on one of the blocks that didn't look any different from the others, but gave in when he pushed it. A small square opened in front of the captain's face, and a computer screen lit up.

-Activate voice identification- A metallic female voice spoke. -Please state your name-

"Jeffrey Montgomery." The captain said, loud and clear.

Voice recognized and access verified. Please proceed.-

Donna had expected that a door would slide open now and let them into the next room, but instead, another block of concrete opened up into an even tinier square and a small platform came out that lit up with a miniature screen showing a flashing bulls-eye.

- Activate fingerprint identification. Please place your right index finger on the screen. -

"God, it's like Star Wars." Donna mumbled, rolling her eyes. "Can't you guys just use a key?"

"Every high security measure is needed to protect what lies behind that door, miss Smith." The captain stated, he was slightly irritated, but was too well mannered to let it show. He pressed his finger on the screen and let the security system do its job.

-Fingerprint identified. Verification complete. Lord Jeffrey Montgomery, full access is granted.-

Now a secret door in the wall did slid open, and revealed a large space with blinding bright lights.

"Welcome to the Unit scientific development base, miss Smith." Captain Montgomery stated, and escorted her inside.

Donna looked around, amazed. There were men and women in white coats everywhere, staring at huge computer screens mounted on the walls. Everywhere she looked, there were consoles and stations and the constant humming of machinery. Military men walked among the white coats, strictly guarding each station. She noticed that at least 7 of them were vigilantly stalking around the platform in the middle of the vast room. A gigantic disk stood on the raised section, and was spinning around its axis at incredible speed. She couldn't believe her eyes, but it seemed that the disk was floating three meters above the ground, with no visible scaffolds or ropes to hold it up.

"That's impossible." She blurted out.

Montgomery smiled.

"That huge thing, is floating? In the air? On it's own?"

"Incredible, isn't it? I must admit that I couldn't believe it myself when I first set eyes on it. But the Valiant sphere is indeed floating in the air. It does not obey the laws of gravity."

"What is it?"

"It's a time converter. A brilliant and powerful machine, designed and built by Harold Saxon himself." The captain eyed at Donna, trying to figure out if there was any change in her face that might indicate that she had recognized the name.

"Harold Saxon?" She furrowed her brows. "I know that name. But where from?" She placed her finger on her lips while she racked her brains. "Wait! Wasn't he in the third season of Big Brother?"

"No miss Smith." Captain Montgomery said, suppressing a sigh of agitation. "Harold Saxon was our prime minister when the American president Arnold Winter was assassinated. Don't you remember any of that?"

"Really? Oh I am sorry, but I've never been much interested in politics."

"Right." The captain felt a headache coming up. "Then let me shortly recall these events to you. Harold Saxon was elected as prime minister of great Britain in 2006. Shortly after he came to power, he had the entire government executed and turned his term into a dictatorship. He even had president Winter murdered on international television. If that man was still in control, we would all have lived in fear and desperation."

"But we don't." Donna raised her eyebrow, confusion settling uneasily inside her like a coiling snake. She wished she had followed the news a bit better. "So what happened to him?"

Montgomery nodded to his men, and they took Donna by the arms and guided her to a screened off corner of the room.

"Oy! What's all this! Get your coal-shover's hands off of me!"

"I'm sorry miss Smith. But I think that what you are about to see is going to distress you, and I don't want any accidents to happen." Montgomery explained, marching in front of her. The screens parted and a white coat came rushing out, carrying a tray with tubes filled with blood.

"You asked me what happened to Harold Saxon." The captain said, and let the soldiers drag her inside. "Like I said. We contained him."

**TBC**

Next time: Donna finds out what project 005 installs and the secret of the Valliant disk is revealed.


	5. Chapter 5

**17.**

Donna walked across the confined space, her mouth dropped open as she took in what was happening around her. There, lying on a metal rack and seemingly unconstrained, was the man who had tried to kill her. He was naked, and his head, torso, and limbs were embedded into metal casings that reminded her of the bony ribcages of monstrous snakes. His eyes were open and he was conscious, but he looked dazed, as if he had been heavily drugged. Blue sparks circled angrily around the metal rings around his body. When she came closer to him, she noticed that they had wrapped him up in thick layers of bandage where he had been hit in the shoulder. Over his chest ran a large gruesome scar in the form of an upside down Y.

Donna turned around, horrified, but the soldiers seized her before she could run.

"Let go! You're sick, all of you!"

"Calm down miss Smith. We don't necessarily want to hurt him. The scar on his chest is not our doing. And we have treated his wounds and removed the bullets."

"Oh how kind of you." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what is this then?" Donna pointed at the electrical current that slithered across his body. "Your idea of revalidation therapy?"

"That, miss Smith, is what keeps the Master contained. It's a constant electrical current that interferes with the electric signals coming from his living cells. It stops any muscle contraction that we would like to block, and neutralizes any neurological signal that we would want to interfere. It's the only way to control the Master."

"You're keeping him paralyzed in here." Donna's uttered, appalled, and finally realizing what the captain was telling her. "And you stop him think." She added, in disgust. "He's nothing but a puppet on strings."

"I can assure you, that we have good reasons to do this."

"Oh I bet." Donna wrestled herself loose from the soldiers. "And what do you want from me then. Are you gonna wire me up as well?"

"No miss Smith. Of course not." Captain Montgomery answered. I am appalled that you think that our operation might be capable of such heinous actions. We want you to help us to obtain the information of how to operate the Valiant disk. That's what project 005 is all about." The captain waved his hand and the two soldiers removed themselves from Donna. "Harold Saxon was the Master in human disguise. He wanted to control earth and enslave the human race to wage war against the rest of the universe."

"Hang on." Donna clamped her hands on her face and shook her head. "You're telling me that this poor bloke is an alien?"

"Oh, he's not just an alien. He's a Timelord. One of the last two in existence. He built the Valiant disk to control our time stream. Luckily, he was defeated before the machine was operational."

Donna felt giddy. She had heard and seen enough the past 48 hours to make her question her sanity, but this seemed to her to be the most absurd thing she had heard so far. "You're torturing this poor man because he looks a bit like our ex-homicidal prime minister, and because you believe that he's a spaceman!" She giggled. "God, what the bloody hell have you all been drinking!"

"Everything I told you is true. Miss Smith. I know why you're reacting that way. It's how you're supposed to act when you're confronted with these things. It's a build-in defense system to keep you safe. I wouldn't do anything that could complicate this protection system and your safety, if it wasn't that we are in dire need of your help. The Valiant disk that we have recovered from the Master's military base could be our most powerful weapon against the current alien threats yet. We need to know how to operate it."

"You're serious." She forced herself to stop laughing, and tried to calm down. "You want me to ask him? You got all these high tech brain-drainers here, what do you need me for?"

"The technology is not that advanced. We cannot extract anything from his mind without damaging it beyond repair." Montgomery admitted. "He seems to trust you, miss Smith. Go talk to him and if you return with useful information, I solemnly swear that after you have shared that information with us, you will be released immediately."

Donna contemplated in silence. She turned her head to the Master, who seemed to have noticed her, for his sunken eyes followed her around. Then she turned back to captain. "If I help you. Would you let this stop?"

"No." Montgomery said, without hesitation. "I'm afraid I cannot. He's far too dangerous."

"Right." She muttered, and looked away. She believed firmly that it wasn't right to leave him behind in here, but although she was keeping up an appearance of calm and defiance, she was scared for own life, and would, at this point, do anything to be able to get out of this nightmare.

"So you believe he trusts me." She mumbled, looking back at the captain, and squinting her eyes. 'Perhaps you're right. I mean, if he's really that kind of a blood thirsty monster you said he is, I'm certainly flattered that he didn't actually let your soldier boys kill me when he had the chance."

"So we have an agreement?" Montgomery asked, ignoring her snide remarks.

Donna nodded solemnly.

They told her that they would switch the neural control system over to low power so he could respond to her questions. They hosted her into a heavy suit with cables that ran out of the collar and sleeves directly back into a console in the corner of the room. "We're going to monitor your contact with him. The Master is known in the past to have used his hypnotic capabilities as a weapon. We don't want to take any risk."

Donna felt a hundred times heavier when she approached the prisoner in her metal harness, but it wasn't because of the suit.

"Hi." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "It's me again. Remember me?"

The Master looked up at her, his eyes heavily hooded.

"It's Donna. Donna Noble."

He parted his lips to speak, his voice sounded small and broken.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I know you."

"That's good." She said, and tried to fake a smile.

"In the park. You were kind to me."

"Yes, I was there, before the ambulance came. Are you all right?"

The Master shook his head, and sweat dripped down his chin. "Pain." He whispered, and grimaced. " The sparks, they hurt."

Donna was stunned for a moment, although she realized that she could have expected to be confronted with this lie. "But they said it wouldn't..."

"It was much worse before." He arched his back before he collapsed back on the rack, his body twitching in pain. "Please, help me. Don't let them turn it back on." He begged.

"Listen, they want to know how to operate something called the Valiant disk. If you tell me maybe I can bargain with them." She lied. "But you have to tell me what you know."

He took in shallow breaths as he tried to concentrate on what she was telling him. "What's a…What's a Valiant disk?"

"You don't know? They said you would know."

"I don't…I don't know what it means. Please, let it stop. I can't take this any longer."

"But, they told me that you built it. You are the Master. Don't you remember your own name?"

The Master shook his head with much effort.

"And Harold Saxon, prime minister of England. Doesn't that ring a bell?"

"I don't know. I really don't know Donna. Please, make them stop."

"You really don't remember?" Donna took a few steps back. "So they are torturing you for nothing."

"Donna, please."

"I can't, I'm sorry." She said ruefully, as her true emotions surfaced. "I can't do anything for you. I'm not even sure if they are going to let me go now. Please, don't you remember anything, anything at all?"

"Ring." He said, and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to distract his thoughts from a surge of violent muscular contractions. "I remember I lost my ring."

"Your ring." Her eyes became hopeful again. "Yes, yes the ring, tell me more, what do you know?"

"I lost it. I lost it somewhere in the park." He turned his gaze at her. "Please can you give it back to me?"

"How did you…?" She gasped and took the ring out of her pocket. It glowed in her hand like the burning remnants of a star.

"I've never told you that I had it."

"Please." He tilted his hand into her direction. "I need it."

It was as if a door inside her mind was opened, and all the monsters that had terrorized her in her dreams came rushing in. The man from the blue box spoke to her at the speed of light, with a thousand different voices. A cry escaped her as it cramped her head instantaneously. The world turned before her eyes, and she broke out in sweat.

"Something is wrong with her body temperature sir." The white coat behind the console reported. "It's rising very quickly."

"There is also a sudden surge in brain activity."

"What do we do sir. Do we pull her out?"

Captain Montgomery studied Donna who pressed her hands against her eyes. "Not yet. There is something going on with the Master as well."

"Donna, hand me the ring."

"What?" She spoke softly, and she finally recognized that voice. She had heard it speak to her in her dreams while she was being consumed by fever. "It was you. You told me to take the ring." She whispered.

"Donna, hand me the ring. You're burning up."

"Captain sir." The private who was watching over security camera 2 reported. "Donna Noble is holding a silver object in her hand."

"It's that ring." Montgomery reasoned out loud. "There's something wrong with that ring." He turned around immediately. "Pull her out! Don't let her hand that thing over to him!"

Donna was feverous, and didn't realize what she was doing. All she knew is that she wanted to obey that voice. She wanted it to stop burning. She wanted rain.

Before the soldiers could pull her away from the Master, she placed the ring in his hand and kept it there.

It was as if all the knowledge of the universe rushed through her head, and for fraction of a second, she knew everything. The secrets of all living things, the birth and death of galaxies, and the intricate working of time itself. And then, within yet another fraction of a second, she forgot again, as all of it was sucked down into her arm and her hand right into the Master's ring. Her head was being drained, and it felt absolutely fantastic.

"Let go now, miss." The soldier put a hand on her elbow, but was suddenly flung across the room, expelled like a magnet with similar charges, and he crashed into one of the standing screens. The second soldier tried to push her aside, and was propelled back into a console where he was electrocuted. The white coats jumped up in panic when the short circuit created by the accident also started to affect the rest of machinery.

"Stop this!" Montgomery yelled. "Turn on the neural controller back on! Stop him from making contact with her!"

But it was too late. The Master gasped for air as he let the ancient energy flow into him. All those wonderful, powerful secrets, his mind absorbed it all like a thirsty desert plant. He felt the wild sparkles emitted by his neurons, a magnificent reawakening of all that he thought had been lost. He closed his eyes, and sent his mind down the electric circuits that restrained him. He slithered through the cables and entered the consoles that had executed his torture so efficiently, and rushed into the database's core. He immediately understood how it worked, and how he could destroy it.

He reversed the power surge, rewriting the computer program to divert the energy back into the consoles by corrupting the original program like a self-spreading virus. When the operator tried to turn it back on, he was electrocuted on the spot by a 10000 volt of electricity, and his body combusted into flames.

Captain observed the absolute chaos that had erupted around him. He fixed his gaze on Donna, who was still holding on to the Master. The console in the corner that was still registering her brainwaves showed that an incredible amount of neural activity had build up inside her, it was the equivalent of a powerful electrical storm swirling inside her head. With that amount of energy, her brains should have been fried, but it didn't happen. Something was sucking the energy out of her. Something or someone, who was strong enough to contain all that power, took the energy away from her before it could do her any harm.

"He's draining her dry!" Montgomery exclaimed in shocked realization. "The Master is using her to restore his powers!" He turned to the officer who stood next of him, and pulled the stungun out of his hands.

"Sir! You can't approach her, it's dangerous!"

"I'm not going to!" Montgomery switched on the stunner and threw it like a spear while he rushed after it. It hit Donna in the side, and the electrical surges fired by the stungun disrupted the currents of energy flowing out into the Master.

She gasped for air as her consciousness resurfaced from the chaotic whirlpool of her mind for a short second, and she was knocked down by the captain to the floor away from the Master. The ring fell out of his hand.

Donna, lying on her back, gazed up at the captain, then her eyes veiled and she passed out.

"Get her out of here! Now!" Montgomery ordered, but before three of his men could rush over to collect Donna, all the lights in the entire facility suddenly went out and they found themselves in complete darkness.

"Captain! What's happening?"

"Everybody stay calm! Use your flash lights! Check the Master!"

The men went over to the rack where they had kept their prisoner. The metal casings were broken and the Master was gone.

"He has escaped sir!"

The captain's old heart skipped a beat. "Seal off the exits. Two of you, guard Donna Noble. The rest of us, start combing the entire room. He must not escape from Unit!"

Before the men could concur, the console on their left side exploded and sent down a dangerous rain of shrapnel on all of them. One of the soldiers went down when a thick shard of metal splitting his face. Mongomery and the rest of his men ducked down and found shelter behind a heavy file cabinet when a second explosion occurred, blasting the by the Master much-hated torture rack to smithereens. It was immediately followed by a third explosion that sent shockwaves through the bunker's structure.

Donna was half-aware that she was lying on the floor, her cheek resting on cold tiles that cooled down her hot skin. She opened her eyes to an ink-black darkness. Someone took her hand and pulled her up.

"You are coming with me." He whispered in her ear.

She swaggered on her feet, and with her arm swept around the shoulder of her invisible savior, she escaped.

Outside from the secluded section, the entire department of research was in panic. Everywhere around them, consoles were overloaded and combusting in flames. Electrical currents swept across the database and wiped out any information that was stored inside the Unit stronghold. These destructions lit the path of the two fugitives. Soldiers who were scanning the room with their flashlights caught sight of the fleeting figures and opened fire. Bullets rattled in the air, and flashes of light captured their trail, projecting shimmering shadows like a haggard sequence of a black and white movie on the walls. Donna bumped into a fleeing woman and screamed when her chest was ripped apart by the gunfire. She ducked for shelter, terrified.

"No don't stop, run!"

She was pulled up again by him forcefully.

"I said, run!"

He dragged her behind him, she could barely catch up as her feet stumbled on the bodies and debris lying scattered all over the floor. She didn't know where they were going, but the man holding her hand found his way in the darkness swiftly and efficiently, as if he was calculating each step and turn to his goal. They reached the middle of the room. He climbed on the platform, and pulled her up. Donna was now standing right in front of the Valiant disk and felt the wind sweeping her hair as the enormous machine continued to swirl around its axes. The man led her even closer to the disk.

"On the count of three, step forward." He screamed above the noise.

"What? Are you mad? It's going to cut off my face!"

"One."

"It's turning too fast! I can't see, I can't see where we're going!"

"Two!"

"I'm not doing this! You can't make me!"

"Three!"

He pushed her and Donna lost balance, stumbling forwards. She screamed as she felt the sweep of a metallic blade pass by her left ear, missing it by the length of the tip of a finger. She crash landed on the floor, and kicked her legs back like a headstrong mule.

"You bastard!" She burst out, when she realized that all her parts were still attached and functioning. She bald her fists and slammed him on the chest. "I was almost decapitated!"

He moved away from her, and for a moment, she lost contact with him, and she was alone with the mechanical sweep of the rotating disk, and the darkness surrounding her.

"Hey! Where are you going? Where am I? Where did you take me?"

She listened, her breathing rasped as the air was swallowed with mouth-fulls into her lungs.

"Am…am I dead?"

"Hardly."

The lights went on, such blinding, overwhelming lights that she had to squint her eyes. She gazed around and held her breath.

They were inside the Valiant disk, but it seemed that it wasn't a disk at all. It was a set of three rotating rings, each of them solid and heavy, thick as tree trunks, gleaming metal structures that turned around their own specific axes. They turned so fast that the structure appeared to be solid but translucent at the same time, a ghostly sphere that emitted light from within. Blue sparks of electrical currents snaked angrily across the surface.

He stood in the middle of the sphere, bare feet and dressed in nothing but a white lab coat that he had pulled off a dead Unit technician, and stooped over what seemed to be a control desk. He pushed another button and a small metallic sphere lifted up from a hidden compartment. It split open like a ripe melon, exposing a hideous, wrinkled skull, with eyes devoid of eyelids, a hole instead of a nose, and a mouth joined on the flesh with what looked like a speaker device.

-Master!- It spoke – Rejoice! Our Master and lord has returned!-

There was a moment of hesitation and confusion on the Master's face as he stared at the monstrosity, but he quickly regained his focus.

"Skip the niceties. I'm in trouble. I order you to inform me how to operate the Valiant disk."

Donna was back on her feet, and realizing who it was who had saved her, took a hesitant step towards the Master.

"You mean you don't know?" She asked, and turned when the lights outside the sphere came back on. Captain Montemery and his men appeared from behind the screens, and spotted them both standing inside the Valiant disk. He rushed towards them while he gave out orders left and right to his reformatting troops.

"They are coming, how can you not know? You switched the bloody thing on!"

"I don't know!" He roared, his face flushed with anger. "I was intercepted when I tried to reach the Valiant files. Now stop distracting me by wagging your stupid ignorant tongue!"

Donna's mouth dropped open, she took in a deep breath, ready to spill out a sewage of abuse at him, when her eyes caught sight of the red stain that bloomed malignantly on the white doctor's coat, just underneath his ribcage. She then realized that he was leaning heavily on the control desk.

"You're hit."

"I don't need your misplaced sympathy." He muttered and turned back to the talking skull. "Now, the information."

Master, I checked the systems, the Valiant disk is fully operational and ready for your instructions.-

"I can't give you instructions if you don't inform me." He responded with a hint of desperation in his voice.

-Master, please guide us, tell us what to do. –

"I need help! I don't remember any of this. What the hell is the Valiant disk suppose to do!"

- Patiently waiting for your instructions, Master-

He bald his fists, ready to smash in the console, when Donna took him gently by his wrist and held him back.

"Wait, I know what this upside down saucer thing is suppose to do. They told me, those Units guys told me what it was. This is supposed to be a time converter or something."

"Time…converter." The Master whispered under his breath, and a light lit up in his eyes. "A time converter." He repeated and ran his fingers through his hair. "A time converter!" He exclaimed, jubilantly. "Of course! Of course it is, look at it, how could it be anything else!" A radiant grin appeared on his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, and calculated and recalled everything he needed to know in order to execute the machine.

"Operate function 0121533, code 1211, but refrain from using the combustion to full capacity." He ordered.

-Yes Master, the operation is executed at once. –

The three rings started to increase speed, and the ground beneath Donna's feet vibrated, and then started to shake violently. Donna's eyes grew wide in fear. She looked at the Master, who returned her anxiety with a pleasant grin and simply mouthed above the deafening roar of the engines that she should hold on tight.

Full speed recorded, energy built up maximized. –

Frightened screams erupted around the Valiant disk when the light went out indefinitely, with every light tube and bulb blowing up and raining down on the fleeing men and women. The soldiers started to fire on the disk, but the bullets were shielded off and bounced back at them, with devastating results.

Fully charged, time jump in 3 seconds, two seconds, one second, initiated...-

A blast of light erupted from the core of the Valiant disk with the power of that of an atomic bomb. Donna closed her eyes as a wall of heat slammed into her face, and held on to the console as she felt how the ground was pulled away from underneath her feet. For moment she was floating, a weightless object engulfed in a sea of bright, all consuming light. Then gravity came back with a vengeance, and jerked heavily on her body, till she smacked down on the floor. She hit her head and immediately lost consciousness.

_**TBC**_


	6. Chapter 6

**18.**

When Donna opened her eyes again, she finally remembered.

She remembered the Doctor.

She placed her hand carefully underneath her chest. They sank away in fine grains of silver sand. She raised herself up, and studied her surroundings.

A black sky, an infinity of space spread above her, with galaxies drifting over like peaceful glittering clouds. She hugged her herself when a wind swept up the sand at her feet and sent it drifting into the air. It turned into a delicate stream of silver, caught in an slow, graceful dance.

"Where am I?" She muttered, exhaling white clouds of vapor from her lungs. She looked to her left and saw nothing but a shiny desert made of stardust, with sand dunes shifting in the wind, and stars stretching out all the way as far as the horizon. She turned the other way, and saw the Master standing there, holding the small metallic sphere that had closed itself up again in his hands.

"Where have you taken me?" Donna asked.

The Master smiled, and let go of the sphere, the Toclefane, last of its kind, hovered in the air, then spun around and flew in a wide circle around Donna and the Master, before it returned to the spot next to its lord.

"I said, where have you taken me?" She demanded to know.

"Oh do stop screaming like that." The Master teased. "No need for that kind of hysteria. If you must know, we're nowhere. We are still in the Unit headquarters."

"Oh no! I don't know what you've done spaceman, but we are not! I'm not stupid. This is some kind of desert on a remote planet."

The Master kicked the sand away in front of his feet.

"I guess it does look a bit like the silver devastation." He muttered, cocking his head to one side. "But I can assure you that we have not transported ourselves in space. Not even one millionth of an inch. That's not what the Valiant disk does."

The Toclefane spun around and hovered next to its master's ear.

-The Donna lady is not very smart, is she, Master? She doesn't even understand the purpose of a time converter. –

"Oy, watch it! I'm not letting myself insulted by a metal football! Besides, your "master" didn't know it either and needed me to point it out to him."

The Toclefane flew in her direction, exposing a set of rotating blades.

Shall I kill her Master, for being this insolent?- It asked, eagerly.

"No. No one gave you such orders." The Master stated, grinning amused.

The Toclefane retracted the blades.

-Such pity – It declared in a sulky voice.

Donna, was shocked by the mad hostility of the metallic sphere.

"Didn't that thing just say that it wanted to kill me?" She exclaimed. "And it listens to you, calling you Master?" She cringed her face. "What kind of a sick person creates such a monster!"

"That "monster" got you out of Unit." The Master stated, calmly, with an amused look that played in his eyes. "It helped me to convert time into this space, and it's going to help us escape."

"What do you mean, it converted time into this? How can time be a place?"

"Donna, this entire place is fake."

He crouched down, picked up a handful of silver grains, and let it slip pass his fingers in a gentle flow.

"It's something that I've programmed, an interface to use while the real purpose of the machine is to travel back and forth in time. Oh hell, I guess you could call it a desktop theme, if you want." He marked an X in the sand with his foot. "We are here. And on this spot exactly, it's July the 15th 2008. When we move to the east, there where the galaxy of the Octanian is setting at the horizon, you will go into the future. Each step brings you one day further away from this date in 2008. Now if you head west, you will end up in the past." He got up and snapped his finger. The Toclefane came rushing to tend him.

"Just to summarize it for you, I've stretched time out into a 2 dimensional plane, and therefore time travel equals traveling in distance. Once we reach the desired place..."

A hidden compartment in the belly of the Toclefane slid open and a small object, shaped like an oversized pen dropped into the Master's hand. When he held it up, the end of the device glowed with an orange hue.

"When we reach our destination, I simple convert space back into time."

"And we'll end up at the location of the Unit headquarters, long before or after we've escaped." Donna remarked.

"Exactly." His smile became wider. "Well well, such a surprise! Donna Noble, you actually seem more clever than I expect you to be, certainly for an earthling."

"They told me you are a Timelord. If that's so, you are not the first one that I have met. I was traveling with the Doctor."

The Master furrowed his brows and snorted. "Doctor what?"

"He is just called the Doctor. He is a Timelord, just like you. Only he has this spaceship, shaped like a blue police box, instead of that Valiant disk of yours. He called it the Tardis." She grew a little melancholic as she recalled her lost friend, but she tried to hide her grief. "Are you sure you don't know him?"

The Master shrugged, and seemed almost indifferent.

"I can't recall such a name from my memories, which is, I admit, a bit hazy at its best. But still, "Doctor" doesn't exactly ring a bell." He peered at the sand dunes in the west. "We should be moving, no point in standing around here and wasting time, metaphorically speaking then. We have to get to a porthole before the entire structure becomes instable."

He turned away from her and headed west, closely followed by the flying murderous silver ball. She hesitated for a moment, but decided that she didn't really have another option, so she followed her strange companions into the desert.

They ventured over the vast plains of shifting silver sand, speaking very little to each other despite Donna's efforts to get him to talk. How different he seemed from the Doctor, she thought, she remembered how the other Timelord had often astounded her with his ability to stampede on and on with his passionate monologues till her head spun. It hurt her heart as she remembered him and how they had parted, and she swore to herself that if she got out of this great kitty litter of a wasteland alive, she would go and find him again. To travel with the Doctor was the best thing she had ever experienced in her life. To return to her old life of before, was a fate worse than death.

"He wiped your mind in order to keep you from destroying yourself, you do realize that don't you?" The Master suddenly said, breaching a long silence.

Donna looked at him, surprised. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

The Master threw her another one of his slick smiles. "It seems that I'm mildly telepathic as well as brilliant. Your thoughts are so loud, it's almost as irritating as your tireless tongue."

"Are you always that charming, or is it only because you're trying to chat me up?" She sneered. "My thoughts are private, thank you very much. I didn't invite you to snoop around and have a good listen."

"Really, so you don't want me to tell you why you don't succumb to a Timelord metacrisis now you remember him so well?"

Donna stared back at him, annoyed. The Master snickered.

"Just say please."

Donna sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, please, do tell me."

The Master took a deep breath of air, for this was going to be one long narcissistic monologue to demonstrate his intellectual superiority. "You didn't succumb because most of the Timelord energy has shifted into me. I drained the overflow from you to restore my own Timelord essence. In a way, whatever you have received from that Doctor-fellow, it's now part of me." He paused as he pulled his leg out of the sinking sand to find a more solid step. "You are only left what is rightfully yours, which are the memories that he took from you, for your own protection." He raised his chin and grinned. "In a way, you're only alive because of me."

"And you are no longer an ignorant half-wit of a Timelord because of me." Donna responded cheekily.

The Master turned to grant her one very nasty look, while the Toclefane zoomed threateningly above her head.

But Donna wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated. She ignored him, passing him by without even acknowledging the fact that he was offended. It worked, for the Master stopped sulking and followed her up the dunes.

"What do you actually remember, if you don't even know who you really are?" Donna asked half an hour of silence later, when she discovered that the Master wasn't exactly the silent type that she saw him for after all, but was rather restraining himself from talking to her because he found her extremely annoying. But the Master started to yield to the overwhelming boredom of their journey over a featureless wasteland, and was itching to have a conversation to stimulate his mind. He was already half talking to the Toclefane and half talking to himself, when she made an effort to engage him again in a conversation. He looked back at her, reconsidered shortly if this was worth the aggravation, and decided that, what the heck, at least it would keep him entertained.

"I don't remember anything." He answered truthfully. "My past is a blank sheet of paper with nothing written on it except for the words "Timelord" in large yellow crayon letters. But I do know what I am, and I'm fully aware of what I can do." He raised his chin and looked down at her with a certain air of haughtiness that he seemed to have reserved for all earthlings. "And I know my name, because you and those silly Unit soldiers called me the Master. You know, I'm just realizing that I actually like to be called the Master. It has a certain ring to it…" He closed his eyes as if tasting it, relishing the sound of a name that conjured associations to power. "I believe that it suits me rather well."

Donna stared at him, astounded by such vanity, and shook her head. "When I get back, I'm going to look for the Doctor. You should meet him, I'm sure he can help you out."

"Help me out with what?" The Master chuckled.

"Just remembering, you know, things about your past. Don't you want to know?"

"And how would that benefit my current state of mind?" He asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

"You can't live without knowing your past. It's part of you. It has shaped you into who you are. A part of me died when the Doctor had to erase my mind. I know, it sounds like its nothing, those short six months traveling with him, but he made me a stronger person by letting me experience everything that he had shared with me, all the terrifying, wonderful, brilliant moments. I lost them all when I was set back to who I was before."

"And now you're a better woman for having regained them." The Master added, wearing a bored expression on his face. "Really, you sound like a dusty old lecturer who nods off at candle light reading sessions and sets his beard on fire. Does that doctor-boyfriend of yours brainwash you with all that cuddly talk?" He said, only for the sake of insulting her, but actually he was intrigued. He did want to remember why he was who those earthlings thought he was. If they considered him such an evil malice, than certainly these conclusions were drawn based on his actions in the past. He wanted to know what had happened to him. Why he woke up in a state of mind that had the intelligence equivalence of a breadtoaster, but in a body of a full-blooded Timelord. Did he lose his memory in an accident, or did his enemies wipe his mind like the Doctor did to Donna? And who were his enemies? Well, the Unit soldier guys, obviously, but he couldn't imagine them to be responsible for his downfall in the past. They didn't seem to know that he existed till they recaptured him, and besides, he considered them too stupid to have ever posed for a real threat. To all of his questions, this Doctor fellow might indeed provide the answer. Being the owner of a functional Tardis, he must have encountered him during his time travels on this mud ball of a planet, and he should be able to tell him more about the man he should be.

"Oy! I said are we there yet! Are you deaf or something?" Donna sneered, after having tried to make contact with him for the last two minutes or so. She was still irritated by the fact that he had called the Doctor her boyfriend. As if she would fancy a stringy, rubber-faced alien. As far as she was concerned, dating a spaceman was out of the question.

The Master, irritated himself that she had disrupted his chain of thoughts, considered shortly to let the Toclefane shut her up permanently by ripping out her flippin tongue.

"It's over that hill. I believe." He told her instead. He didn't know a good reason for sparing her, but he did. He couldn't really get himself to harm her. It was some sort of sick cosmic joke. Him being thrown together with what was possibly the most annoying woman in the whole of existence, but unable to shut her up because he was the victim of a fixed mindset that was most likely an artifact of the energy transfer that had happened between him and her. He must think of a way to breach this, but in the meantime, he had to be content with just insulting her. "Move your stubby little legs, and step it up if you want to get there sooner, but stop moaning about it already. It's like I am dragging along a ginger jackass."

The look that Donna gave him was enough to send any man fleeing into the opposite direction, but it didn't work on the Master, who actually found it amusing that he could wind her up so much.

"Hang on." Donna suddenly stopped at the foot of the dune, and the anger quickly disappeared from her expression. "But that's…that's the Tardis!" She pointed excitedly at the blue police box, standing at the top of the dune. "The Doctor! He's here!"

The happiness that glowed on her face instantly unnerved the Master.

"Donna, whatever you think that blue box is, it's not real."

"How do you mean, not real?" She shook her head and started to run up the hill. The Master and the Toclefane trailed closely behind her.

"You don't know the Doctor!" She shouted over her shoulder. "He's wonderful and resourceful and clever! He could find me anywhere!"

She took large impatient steps up, slipping back and stumbling on her hands and feet frequently. When she reached the top, she rushed over to the Tardis, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and her eyes glistening with hope.

"Hey! I said, don't go near that thing! Can't you just listen to me for a change you bloody bint!" The Master warned. He also made it at the top and ran after her. Something bothered him greatly. There was something inside that blue box that frightened him, and the closer he got, the more he detested its presence. It was as if he was about to enter a haunted tomb, or was going to dig up a fresh grave.

"Now listen to me Donna Noble, I told you before that this place is only an operating interface. Nothing really exists here except for the two of us, and the Toclefane. Everything else you see, the sand, the sky, and this bloody police box are made up. Your precious Doctor is not here, so don't go inside the Tardis, it's dangerous!"

"Oh no! You can't have made up the Doctor. You said you didn't even know him! Why are you so upset, you're scared to meet him? Is that it? Are you suddenly less certain about yourself now that there's another, more clever Timelord around?"

She pushed against the Tardis doors. They weren't locked and slowly swung open. Inside, it was dark and quiet.

"Doctor? Doctor, are you in there? It's me Donna!"

Nothing. Donna stepped inside, gazing around in the darkness. By the little light that entered through the doorway, she could see that the Tardis core was dark, the familiar light that she had expected to glow in the heart of the great timemachine was extinguished, and not even a tiny glow had remained. The Tardis seemed cold, and dead, the control room was the cavernous inside of a cadaver.

Donna's footsteps echoed in the vast space. She swallowed, her heart felt heavier with each step.

"Doctor, are you here?"

"Please, please be here…"

There was no one. The Tardis was deserted. She stepped around, lost, and felt the tears well up.

The Master rolled his eyes. "You stupid earth woman, are you done yet or are you only satisfied when you get me killed?!" He ranted. He stood in the doorway and stared angrily at her, but was too frightened to come inside to drag her out himself.

"Oh piss off!!" Donna screamed, turning around to face him. At that moment, she really, really detested him for being right. "You're so full of yourself, if your head was any bigger it could have been stamped by a post office official and float off as flippin airmail!"

The Master swallowed hard, and gritted his teeth so hard that he could actually hear it. He was about to send his Toclefane minion in to drag her out in the most painful way imaginable, when a short shadow appeared behind her.

"Watch out, behind you!"

Donna swirled around, and was just in time to see a little boy standing there. His eyes were the clearest blue that she had ever seen, the color of crystal lakes on icy mountains. His face was stained in blood. His clothes were dirty, and the skin on his left arm was covered by hideous scars. He looked up at her, his mouth opened as if he wanted to speak, but before he had the chance to utter a single word, he was hit in the chest by a red laser beam.

"No!" Donna turned to the Master, who aimed his pen shaped weapon on the small defenseless boy. "Stop it! It's just a kid! Stop it I said!"

The Master lowered his lasercrewdriver, and watched how Donna rushed over to tend the boy who was now lying on the floor, eyes closed. She took him in her arms and cradled his head, gently brushing the damp hair from his face.

"Don't do this." The Master said, horrified. "Leave that brat alone."

Donna couldn't believe her ears. "You just shot him you bastard!"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. It doesn't really change anything in time." He took a step back. "Now let go of him. He's not right. Didn't you see his eyes? There's something wrong with his eyes."

"There is something wrong with you!" She spat, and lifted the boy up from the floor.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?! Leave him! I order you!"

"You're not ordering me around, you space Nazi commander! Now get out of my bloody way!" She carried the boy through the doorway, pushing the Master aside, and gently put the child down outside in the silver sand. In the light of the stars, she noticed that the boy seemed much older than she first thought he would be. When she caressed his face, his eyes flew open.

"Thank God. You're all right?" She asked with great concern.

The boy didn't speak, only stared back at her with a haunted expression on his face.

"Tell me, are you hurt? Where did that beam hit you?"

"He's not going to say anything. He's in shock, isn't that obvious, even to such a pigheaded woman like you?" The Master snorted. He sank down his knees and sat down with his back leaning against the Tardis. His fear for the blue box had completely vanished. There was nothing left inside that could frighten him. Anything that could was now outside, lying in Donna's arms a few feet away from him. He swept his head back and closed his eyes, trying to calm the double drumming of his hearts that was becoming louder and louder. "You can't do anything for that brat. He's gone."

"What would you know? What do you mean he's in shock? Is that what your laserpencil does? Scare the shit out of little children?"

"It's called a laserscrewdriver! Anyway, it wasn't the laser. That kid saw something. Something awful…" The Master pushed his hands on his eyes to make himself stop seeing what was inside the little boy's head, while cursing his telepathic senses under his breath. "Death and war, and extinction, the lights going out in the sky, those things he saw, they murdered his soul. Ripped it apart into shreds." He shook his head violently, but the drumming in his ears seemed to spread like a malignant parasitic worm that crawled into his brains till the noise vibrated through his skull, hitting it repeatedly with an invisible mallet. "It drove him mad. He's a dangerous little monster. We must leave…"

He was stopped mid sentence when Donna slapped him hard in the face.

"Stop it! I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense! Timelord or no Timelord, you're not worth to be one! You're nothing compared to the Doctor!"

The Toclefane flew into action and flung its blades out before it charged at Donna. She didn't flinch, not even when the rotating knives swept so close to her face that it brushed against the locks of her hair and shortened it with considerable length.

"No! Don't!" The furious Master eyed maliciously at her, but shook his head at his fateful minion. "Just don't."

The Toclefane retracted its blades again, and flew away from Donna. She looked the Master in the eyes, her chin raised high in defiance, and without uttering another word she went back to the injured boy.

"I guess there is no rush anymore then!" The Master yelled after her, the corners of his lips curled into a dark sarcastic grin.

They didn't travel any further. When the largest star in the sky disappeared behind the horizon, they slept out in the open under the light of the remaining stars. Donna and the boy were huddled closely together, while the Master kept himself to his site of the camp and stayed awake, listening to the continuous assault of drums that didn't want to leave him in peace.

The next morning, the boy had vanished.

The Master, who had finally closed his eyes after a long night devoid of any sleep after the drums had vanished too with the boy, was roughly awakened by Donna.

"Wake up!" Her voice was high pitched of panic and her eyes were stinging with tears. "What have you done to him? Where is he?!" She wanted to slap him again but the Master grabbed hold of her wrist and twisted it backwards till it was close to snapping. Donna screamed.

"For the last time, that brat is not real!" He hissed in her ear. "I didn't do anything to him, and if you try to slap me again, I swear I'm gonna break your arm on so many locations that your bones are going to be nothing but dust inside a bag of saggy skin, Capisci quelle che sto dicendo?"

Donna was crying of anger and humiliation, but managed to calm down. Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Right." The Master twisted her arm back into the rightful position, but kept holding on to her wrist. "Now I would like you to come with me. Miss Noble."

He dragged her inside the Tardis. Although the Tardis core was still dead, something had changed. The chair next to the console was lying with its back on the floor. Above it hung a helmet shaped device that was connected to the Tardis main control unit by thick cables. Although the machines were now silent, the smell of heated wires indicated that they had been active, not long ago. Someone had used that strange device while they were sleeping.

"What is this?" Donna asked, hesitantly.

"This, my dear ginger airhead, is the Tardis bioconverter. Every Tardis has one for emergencies. It enables a Timelord to change his own DNA structure into that of any alien race known in existence."

"Why was it switched on?"

"I guess that brat didn't want to be a Timelord anymore." The Master let go of her. Donna was closest to the door and could have fled, but she remained where she was, standing next to his side.

"Why?"

"Because, he was scared." The Master's face darkened, he turned around and walked out of the Tardis. Donna followed him.

They were standing outside. The Master pointed at a trail of footprints in the sand that vanished into the east. "There he went, he made himself human and fled. I didn't hurt him. There's no point. What happened to him is a fixed event in time that no one can change, not even a Timelord. However worthless he must seem compared to your precious omnipotent Doctor."

Donna stared silently at the markings in the silver sand while the realization of what had truly happened slowly sank into her. "I'm sorry." She finally said ruefully, without looking at the Master.

"Sorry for what?" The Master snorted sarcastically, his eyes fixed at the horizon where the boy had disappeared.

"I'm sorry that you have to be reminded of this." She gazed up at the Master, her cheeks flushed with guilt. "That little boy, that was you, wasn't he? This has once happened to you. And now you remember it."

The Master didn't turn to look at her. He kept his eyes at the horizon where the galaxy of Medusa was slowly sinking away under the hills.

"We have to keep going." He finally stated after a long silence, his voice devoid of any emotions. "This structure is not going to keep stable forever." He nodded to the west. "The first porthole should be over that second dune. If we keep pace, we'll be there before Medusa has disappeared out of the sky."

They continued their journey in silence, with the Master walking up front, followed closely by the Toclefane. Donna kept herself a few feet away from the two. She didn't want to upset him anymore than she had done already. Besides that murderous minion of his was playing with its blades every time she came anywhere closer to the Master, as if to send out a warning. It was becoming obvious that she and the silver football weren't exactly going to be the best of friends.

When the last ring of stars of the Medusa galaxy touched the silhouettes of the hills on the horizon in the west, the Master suddenly halted.

Donna took a few hesitant steps towards him, keeping a watchful eye on the Toclefane zooming over his head.

"Why did we stop?"

"We're here." The Master held his arms up, pointing out the surrounding area.

"But there is nothing here except for that dead tree."

The Master snapped off a large branch from the shriveled tree, and took his laserscrewdriver from the pockets of his labcoat.

"The porthole is buried underneath the sand, all I have to do is to find it."

He scanned the ground with a red laser light coming from his screwdriver. Where ever the beam hit the sand the ground became transparent, and a structure of green fluorescent lines appeared on a black background. They drew out the landscape around them. When Donna looked more carefully, she realized that the lines were made up of ones and zeros, the language of a computer program. When the Master scanned the ground under her feet, she was suddenly staring down into a black pit of seemingly nothingness. Frightened, she quickly stepped out of the beam.

"I told you this was all fake." For the first time since they had encountered the Tardis, the Master allowed himself to smile. "Mind you, you were exactly standing on the porthole. You didn't need to move at all."

Donna quickly composed herself. "Okay, so you found it, now what?"

The Master's smile became wider till it became a smug grin. He cocked his head and beckoned with his finger for Donna to come closer. She came over till she was standing on the edge of the black porthole. When she looked down, she could actually see a bright whirlpool of blinding light, swirling into the dark abyss below. The Master switched off the laserscrewdriver, and the silver sand returned at their feet.

Donna gazed up at the Master, her white rimmed eyes betrayed her fear. He answered it with a confident grin.

"And now?" She dared to ask.

"Now." The Master answered, and plunged the tree branch into the sand like a spear. "I recommend you hold your breath."

"What?" Donna felt her feet sink into the sand at a speed that was absolutely frightening. Before she could cry out for help, the upper half of her body had already disappeared into the sandpit. The sand grains poured into her clothes, the weight of it squeezed the air out of her lungs. She took a last large breath of air in blind panic before she vanished underneath the surface and sank further into the darkness.

**_TBC_**


	7. Chapter 7

**19.**

Somewhere deep underneath the busy streets of central London, in one of the old abandoned Victorian sewage tunnels, a small light appeared. It was no bigger than a firefly and floated in the air, illuminating a darkness that was otherwise continuous and complete. The family of rats that had called this part of the sewage their home, stared at the unfamiliar sight with much curiosity and a little bit of fear. One of them, a large experienced female who had already seen at least four winters, came closer and sniffed the air around the small glittering ball. She used her paws to try to catch it when it started to fly away. It could be an insect of some kind, a fat juicy bug that would be nice and crunchy underneath her teeth. She went after it. The light fled from her till it reached a large cavernous basin inside the tunnel system, and came to a standstill when it reached the middle of the large pool where it floated for a while above the shimmering water.

Then, it suddenly started to grow.

The rat twitched her whiskers nervously as the ball of light grew into the size of a mouse, than a rat, a cat, a small car. It kept on growing bigger and bigger till it started to make a loud rumbling noise that rose up in volume like an airplane taking off. The large female turned her tail and ran. The ball of light erupted into a blinding fireball, blue sparks ignited when the metal rings scraped over the stone surface of the old basin. The Valiant disk appeared, floating above the water for less than a fraction of a second before it was sent crashing down into the basin below as the rings continued to hit the stone walls, sending the entire structure off balance. Parts of the wall collapsed and plummeted into the water below. Huge waves of water splashed over the sidewalk, flushing the rats out of the tunnel.

The rings got stuck in the stones and mortar and finally stopped turning.

In the middle of the Valiant disk, on a platform that was half-sunken underneath the water surface, Donna and the Master lay next to each other, close to the ruined console.

"What?" Donna gasped as she regained consciousness, half-certain that she was still choking to death. She slowly realized that she was no longer buried in the sand, but was lying on the floor of the Valiant disk with the remains of the great rings burning around her.

"What the hell have you done!" She gasped. "Where are we?" She gazed around. The Toclefane was hovering above the Master. He was still unconscious, lying face down in the water.

" Shit!" Donna rushed over and quickly turned him around. "Master!" She hesitated for a short moment before she dared to slap him in the face. "Hey! Don't tell me you've let yourself drown in an inch of sewage water!" She held her hand in front of his nostrils. He was still breathing. Relief washed over her when he slowly opened his eyes.

The Master gave her a weak grin. "How did I park?" He muttered.

Donna couldn't help herself from smiling back at him.

"Like a Russian tank driver on drugs." She looked at the burning rubble. "I don't think you're going to be able to get insurance to pay for this."

The Master sniggered, but his smile soon vanished from his face to be replaced by a grimace of pain. His hand slipped down the drenched labcoat to where the bullets of Unit soldiers had penetrated his body. The red bloodstain started to bloom again, and colored the water in which he lay dark.

"You're bleeding." Donna watched with a sense of panic how the red stain spread out over the water surface like a blotch of ink. "Why are you still bleeding? I thought you were better? You seemed all right when we were in that fake desert."

"Time doesn't flow in that place. My injuries didn't heal because it didn't have the time to do so. The Valiant Disk placed us outside time till we re-entered the time stream by leaving through the porthole. As far as my bullet holes are concerned, they are still made a couple of minutes ago and are smoking fresh." The Master gazed up at Donna and studied her face. "Oh don't look so scared. I'm not going to die for a second time in one day, it's starting to get a bit cliché."

"I'll get you to a hospital." Donna took his arm and swept it over her shoulder, helping him up.

"Oh no, not the hospital." The Master grimaced while he carefully weighted out each step before he took it. "I thought you didn't want me dead? Those so called doctors are all to eager to slap me on the dissection table as soon as they discover my unusual anatomy. I'll be dismembered into little parts and distributed over a dozen of labeled jars before my hearts stop beating."

"But you need medical attention." Donna argued. She noticed how a stream of blood trickled down his legs in the pool of water at their feet.

"I can heal myself." The Master answered with a certain amount of stubbornness and misplaced pride. "I'm still partly regenerating, all that I really need is a bit more time. I need a safe place to rest."

He started to have trouble to speak as every breath he took strained his chest painfully. One of the bullets must have entered his upper chest cavity and ripped through his lungs. Donna helped him through the tunnels, while the Toclefane flew out in front to light their path. Finally, they reached a shallow niche in the wall where a flight of stairs went up to the streets above. She helped him up the slippery steps. At the top of the stairs was a heavy metal door. The hinges and the lock were completely rusted. Donna tried to push it open, but it didn't budge. The Master, now heavily leaning on Donna and fighting to remain conscious, slipped his hand inside his pocket and held out the laserscrewdriver.

"Here, use this." He opted. His voice was now so weak that everything he said sounded like a whisper. "Push this button, here." He pushed the device into her hand.

Donna fired the laserscrewdriver at the lock, and pushed again the metal door with her shoulder. It gave. Daylight flooded in, blinding them both for a short moment. She flung it further open and helped the Master through the doorway. The Toclefane was ready to follow, but the Master shook his head.

"No. You stay in here till it's dark outside." He held the laserscrepdriver up. "Use your tracking device to locate the beacon." He twisted a mechanism on the screwdriver and a tiny red light started to pulse at the tip. "Find the beacon, and you'll find me."

The Toclefane, although disappointed, obeyed its Master, and went back down into the tunnels to wait for nightfall. Donna closed the door and together with the Master, she ventured into what she hoped to be an alleyway in a normal town on earth somewhere close to London. She turned the corner and found out that she was actually in London, standing on the crossroad between Regent Street and Piccadilly, with the huge bright neon commercial boards and the Shaftesbury memorial right in front of her. People pushed by, rushing to or from work. Cabs and red buses pushed through the congested streets at the speed of mating snails. She gazed at all of these more than familiar sights, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Oh, at least we're home! Well, I'm home. I'm not sure about you…Hey!" Donna felt the weight on her shoulder increase as the Master slipped into unconsciousness. She could not hold his entire weight, and had to partly lean him against a lamppost to keep him standing up.

"Hey! Don't sleep!" She pleaded worriedly. "I don't know if you're ever gonna wake up again if you faint now." She eyed the bloodstain on his doctor's coat that had bloomed over most of the lower half of the fabric, reaching the linings. "That's it. I'm going to call an ambulance. You can't go on like this."

"No." The Master muttered. "No doctors…please…"

"But…what do you want me to do then? I can't let you just bleed to death."

"Take me…take me somewhere safe…"

"I could bring you to my house if you want." Donna opted.

"No, you can't. You can't risk it to meet your past-self."

"Oh, and that's a bad thing, right. I'm sorry, I should have expected this." Not only did the Doctor once explained this to her, but she also clearly remembered all those crazy plotlines of those Back to the Future movies. Donna racked her brains for a better solution. "Okay, think Donna, think! Somewhere safe. Somewhere safe. God! I don't know! I don't even know what day and year this is! What do you want me to do, bring you to a hotel or something, is that what you want?"

"It's June." The Master whispered.

"What? What did you say?"

"It's June the 22nd, 2006." The Master explained in a slightly louder voice.

"June the 22nd of two years ago…" Donna suddenly thought of something. "Hang on, that was in the summer when I got a temporary secretary job for a charter company. My boss went on holiday and asked me to feed his goldfish and water his plants. He's got a large apartment here in central London, just a block away. I can get you there." She checked if the Master was still awake. "It's close and safe enough. If you still can walk."

The Master nodded, and struggled to get up. Donna supported him, and managed to get him back on his feet.

They stumbled through the busy street, getting strange looks from the other pedestrians who craned their heads to stare at the horrific bloodstrains on the Master's coat. Luckily they didn't want to meddle with the two of them, for they both looked and smelled like they were homeless or on drugs or both.

"Talk to me…" The Master whispered, his lips and his face had turned pale. "It keeps me awake..."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Why are you so sure you won't bump into yourself…at the apartment?"

"Ehm, because I actually forgot to water his plants and feed his goldfish. I remember this so well, because he was gone for two weeks and by the time he came home, he needed new plants and a new pet."

The Master gazed at her in astonishment, before his lips slowly curled into a boyish grin.

They didn't notice it, but as Donna and the Master made their way to the apartment, they passed by countless pamphlets stuck on lampposts and barren walls, all of them sending out one particular message into the world. If they had cared to look up at the large billboards raised on the first and second floors of the department stores at Piccadilly, they would have recognized the man in the campaign posters, dressed in his immaculate black suit and looking into the camera with that "oh do trust me" smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Proud citizens of Great Britain, they would have read, vote for a better and safer future. Vote for Harold Saxon.

**_TBC_**


	8. Chapter 8

**20.**

Luckily, Donna had not forgotten how to use the laserscrewdriver to open doors, for by the time they arrived at the apartment, the Master was already half-unconscious. She dragged him inside, careful not to leave any bloodmarks on the expensive carpet in the hall outside. If the neighbors noticed anything strange, they would certainly call the police. She dropped him on the sofa and went to look for bandages, which she found in the medical cabinet in the bathroom. When she returned, the Master was already sound asleep. His eyelids fluttered fast as if he was dreaming. Carefully, she peeled off his doctor's coat. The fabric was crusted with dried blood. There were two entry wounds the size of a pebble at the left side of his torso. Donna caught her breath for a moment when she saw all the blood congealed around the gun wounds, and hesitated if it was the right thing to do to rely fully on the Master's own healing capacity.

"No…" The Master mumbled. His voice was so weak it was hardly audible.

Donna bent over to him and put her ear close this mouth.

"No…no doctors…please…"

"Oh all right." She realized that he must have been listening to her thoughts again, but at the moment, she didn't mind. "I promise you I won't."

She ripped the bandages into thick strips and dressed his wounds. Then she went into the bedroom and took the sheets off the bed. She wrapped them firmly around him, and tucked a pillow under his head. Then she sank down in the seat in the corner next to the large windows and stared down at the busy street below, wondering what she had got herself into till her eyelids became heavy.

**21.**

She woke up early in the morning with the clean-shaved face of the Master hovering only a nose length away from her.

"Good morning sunshine." He grinned a not unpleasant grin. "Did you sleep well?"

Donna rose up, but immediately felt stiff in her shoulders and back. Fancy Italian design or not, it remained a seat in which sleeping comfortably was impossible. She stretched the kink out of her neck. "Have you been up for long?" She noticed that the Master was still eyeballing her without so much as a blink. It made her feel uneasy.

" Only for a while. You were sleeping, so I went to take a shower, got myself shaved and selected some clothes from the wardrobe. The man who lives here has an absolute vile taste. It took me hours to find something decent."

"But, are you all right then?" Donna studied him from head to toe. The Master stood firmly without support, and he did actually look a lot better, with the color returning to his cheeks. He was dressed in an ensemble of a two button black suit, a white shirt, and black pleats trousers, but no shoes or socks. When he caught her staring at his bare feet his wriggled his toes.

"Like I said. It's hard to find something that doesn't make me look like an imbecile. The man has socks with cartoon characters on them, and his shoes look like a dog has used it as a toothbrush. I would rather die than to be seen alive wearing those."

"So…you've completely recovered?" Donna reached out to where the bandages had been. The Master rolled his eyes and lifted his shirt. The wounds were closed and only two tiny scars remained. Donna tentatively touched them with her fingertips.

"Two little scars. That's all. They're probably gone by tomorrow. You won't see a thing." He tucked his shirt back in.

"What happened to the bullets? Didn't you need to get them out?"

The Master dug into his pockets and held out two blood-crusted bullets in the palm of his hand. "They were expelled while I was asleep. Can't say there aren't any advantages for being a Timelord." He dropped the bullets in the ashtray on the coffee table that was tastelessly shaped like a large waterlily with a chorus of ceramic frogs sitting on it. "Makes all those times that people want to rip your hearts out for only the curiosity of it more than worthwhile."

Donna sighed out of relief. "God, you guys are amazing!" She exclaimed, and threw herself in his arms and hugged him firmly. The Master was absolutely stunned by this sudden display of warm human sentiment and sympathy, and froze at the spot, but Donna didn't notice how embarrassed and uncomfortable he was. "Now I'm sure that everything is going to be all right! All we have to do now is to find the Doctor, and he can get us back to 2008."

The Master pried Donna from his chest. "Stop your ramblings for a moment, I don't exactly want to go back to 2008."

Donna's smile vanished from her face. "But we can't stay here. My mom and granddad are going to worried sick."

"Well, that's not my problem, is it?"

Donna stared back at him in astonishment. "But…I've saved your life."

"And I've saved yours at the Unit headquarters." The Master stated coldly. He straightened his collar and brushed the wrinkles out of the fabric of his suit. "Anyway, if those Unit soldier boys were right, than I ought to find out more about what had happened to me when I stay in 2006, the year that Harold Saxon came to power. Going back to 2008 is not going to help. I thought you wanted me to come more in touch with my former self. Didn't you try to sell me that self-discovery crap before?"

She shook her head and paced around in the apartment. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Doing what?" He laughed.

"I thought you were…I thought you were like…"

"Like who? Your precious Doctor?" He burst into laughter. "Donna Noble, where did you get that preposterous idea?" He mocked on the edge of being cruel. "And isn't it a bit racist of you to just assume that I'm kind because your favorite pet Timelord used to be nice? Oh come on! Even you can't be that stupidly naïve."

She wanted to strike him, but the Master was fast now that he had fully recovered, and stopped her by grabbing her hand in mid-air. To her surprise, he didn't hurt her this time.

"I warn you." He threatened in a low voice, and let go of her.

"I want to go find the Doctor." Donna spoke, as calmly as she could force herself to be.

"You're staying here." The Master grabbed a bottle of Scotch from the drink cabinet and poured a glass full.

"You can't stop me." Donna rushed towards the hall, but the Master drew his laserscrewdriver and pointed it at her. Donna suddenly froze.

"Oh I think I can, actually." He ushered her back into the livingroom, placing his hand at the small of her back. "Sit" He half-commanded and handed her the Whiskey. Donna stared at it for a while before she tentatively took it from him. The Master sat down on the coffee table and stared at her, unblinking.

"Donna Noble." He mused, and touched his upper lip with the tip of his laserscrewdriver in contemplation. "You know, the more I look at you, the more I…" He paused, furrowed his brows, and leaned over to her so close that she could smell the expensive aftershave that he had spayed on earlier that morning.

"You look so familiar. I mean, sure, you saved me in that park when I was still bonkers in the head. I do remember that. But there is something else. I have a feeling that I remember you from even before that. I think that you may actually have something to do with my obscure past." He bit on his lower lip as he studied her face. "Can I be right? What do you think? Hmm?"

Donna was sitting very still, holding her drink untouched in her hands. She eyed at the Master without moving her head.

"I think you are a dangerous crazy man. I think that you ought to be locked up for your own good."

"Oh do you?" The Master chuckled. "And what drove you to this luminous conclusion?"

"You…you did something to my mind. I didn't want to walk back, and I certainly didn't want to sit here and have a drink with you. But somehow, you forced me to do this. You imposed your will on me."

"Ding ding ding! You're absolutely right." The Master laughed with a boyish sense of joy. "A round of applause and a big fluffy teddy for the lady!"

"It's absolutely appalling!" Donna spat. "You're a vile egocentric monster. I should have left you in UNIT, let those white coats keep you there for the rest of your worthless life."

"Well, you can't say they didn't warn you." He thought he couldn't be affected by Donna's harsh words, but he actually was. It certainly drained the fun out the situation.

"You can't keep me here. Let me go!"

"Why can't I?" The Master took the glass of Scotch out of her motionless hands and took a good sip.

"Because… Because you can't just take over other people's mind, order them what to do at your whim, and leave them at your mercy. Don't you remember how those UNIT soldier treated you? They hooked you up to that horrible machine and kept your body and mind completely paralyzed. If you have experienced that, and you're as clever as you claim to be, than you can figure it out for yourself why you can't do this."

She gazed up at him. The Master crossed his arms while nursing his drink in his left hand. He studied the dark honey colored liquid as it swirled in the glass, but avoided her eyes.

"It's because it's a wicked thing to do." She blurted out in anger, but hoping fiercely that he would understand. "Do I need to spell it out for you? It's WRONG!"

"I've enough of this." The Master muttered to himself, and turned away from her. As soon as he walked away, Donna felt his icy grip on her mind evaporate and she regained control over her own body. Her limbs and shoulders relaxed as if her whole composure was letting out a sigh of relief.

The Master's back was still turned as he stood silently in front of the large windows. He gazed down at the passers by below, studying them as if they were a colony of ants.

"You may go." He spoke slowly, as if the decision actually pained him.

She didn't get up from the sofa, and kept staring at him.

"I said, you could go now." He finally turned to face her. "Now piss off will you before I change my bloody mind!"

Donna jumped up and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. She took the stairs instead of the elevator, and didn't stop running till she was outside, standing in the street in front of the flat. Her hart was racing, and toiled with a strange concoction of anger, fear and frustration.

"Calm down Donna." She muttered. "Don't let that lunatic get inside your head." But she couldn't help herself from looking up to the second floor. The Master was still standing in front of the window. He looked lost.

Donna shook her head to clear her mind of him, and turned away.

**21.**

It wasn't until she had walked at least 4 blocks away from the Master that she realized that she didn't actually had a plan to find the Doctor. Before she met up with the other Timelord in 2007, she had already been trying to contact him for over a year, and it had taken considerable efforts on her side. She had occupied herself for months with screening the daily newspapers for unusual reports. Anything remotely alien was investigated. She remembered how she had run after each unusual event that took place that year after her disastrous wedding. The London hospital that was transported to the moon, the Lazarus biotech company that was destroyed by a monstrous creature, and the spaceship that threatened to crash into Buckingham palace, she had lived through it all, but each time, she had been too late to meet up with the Doctor.

Her steps slowed down as her courage sank down into her feet. How on earth was she going to find him if she had failed the first time around?

She stopped walking. Somebody bumped into her back and complained.

"Oh please." She responded, agitated. "Don't make such fuzz about it. You're now what? A minute late for your appointment with a mug of ale in your favorite pub? Is that what your sad life is all about?"

The man who had been grumbling at her walked away with hasty steps.

Donna snorted, and without much interest, watched how the man crossed the street and joined a group of people standing in front of a large video display set up in front of a crowded pub. She had half-expected that the men gathered outside were watching a football match. Instead, the large screen was showing the BBC's live coverage from the parliament. Donna, although she had spend most of her life single, had experienced her fair share of men to know that most of them were as interested in politics as they were in women cosmetics, so she decided to investigate.

She pushed forward in the crowd till she got a good view and addressed an office worker who stood next to her.

"Hey, what's going on?" She asked, casually.

The man glanced over his shoulder at her, but quickly returned his gaze to the television screen.

"It's Harold Saxon. He won the election by a landslide of a majority." He said it with a sense of pride and admiration. "He's going to address his supporters in a live broadcast, we're all waiting here for him to deliver his speech."

"Right." Donna mumbled. "So he's going to appear in a minute or so then?"

"Didn't you read the schedule in the Radio Times?" The man snorted. "His speech is at 19:00 this evening. It' only what, 16:30 in the afternoon."

"But, that's more than an hour from now." Donna gazed at him in astonishment. "You're not gonna stand here and wait till he's on, are you?"

"Of course I am. What if I miss anything? Sure, my girlfriend at home is going to tape it, but you know how women are with electronics. It's too risky. It would be like missing out on the coronation or something."

"Coronation?" Donna gasped. "What are you saying, he's not the bloody king of England."

"No, of course not! He's more than that! He's bigger than a king. He's the Lord protector of our nation." The man actually became a bit teary eyed when he said it. "It's our Harry who keeps England safe from alien attacks. No thanks to those bloody Americans. Now if you would excuse me, they are about to broadcast one of his campaign commercials, and I don't like to be disrupted while I'm watching." He turned to the screen, his eyes ablaze with what could only be described as a blind fanaticism that would have suited well for the average Nazi soldier just before he got himself killed for his beloved Fuhrer.

Donna backed away from him. "This is not happening." She muttered under her breath, while a sickening sense of unease crept up her spine. She studied the people around her. They were all like that. Men and women, holding their pints in their hands without taking so much as a sip, silent to each other but staring a the screen with wide-eyed anticipation. The commercial came up, and the Master's face beamed from the wide screen. He spoke, charmingly, and enigmatically, his manners full of promise of integrity and great leadership. He was awkwardly handsome, although in any rational view, his nose could be considered too pointy and his eyes a bit beady, like that of a weasel. But he came over as very charismatic, even desirable. His wit made every one laugh at the right moment, and his passionate words made all of them feel proud to be British, while it instilled fear into their hearts for the so-called extra-terrestrial terror.

Donna's mind wandered, she thought about his lips, and that beautiful stern mouth that she should have kissed that morning, with him being so achingly close that she could feel his breath on her skin. She recalled how safe she felt when he took her hand in the dark amid the chaos of the UNIT headquarters, and she realized that she missed him, and that she wanted to be with him, more than that she wished to find the Doctor…

"No no no no no!" Donna shook her head violently and tore her gaze off the screen. "Oh no! No you don't! You're not going to play that trick on me."

She got rid of all those Master-worshipping thoughts immediately as she realized what was going on.

He was brainwashing all these people.

She stared around as if suddenly awoken from a pleasant dream, only to realize that she was now trapped inside a nightmare. Only this one was real. There was something horribly wrong with the broadcast, he must have messed it up to make everybody believe that they trusted Harold Saxon. She stepped away from the screen, keeping her eyes on the ground. But when she turned another block her eyes fell on the pamphlets stuck on about every surface in the streets. _Vote Saxon! Saxon is your man. Against the imminent alien threat, trust Harold Saxon._ Everywhere she looked there were Saxon campaign posters with the Master's greasy smile beaming back at her, faking his compassion and care for a better future of Britain.

She kept on walking, fleeing away from this world that seemed to worship Harold Saxon like a demi-God. The unease had grown into a fear, and she racked her brain for what she could remember about these particular events. To her surprise and frustration, it was still very little, even now that the memories the Doctor had once sealed off were restored to her. She recalled watching the election on the telly, but not thinking much of it except that she actually wanted Saxon to win, and she had voted for him like everybody else. She remembered an incident on that military airship where indeed president Winters was assassinated by the alien race Saxon had introduced to the nation and the rest of the world as being benign. But even as the American leader was reduced to dust in front of the cameras, and Saxon proclaimed himself to be the only true Master and Lord of humanity, even as the fear struck down hard on Donna and his family, they didn't question his decision to seize total power, and kept their heads down without even an attempt to offer resistance.

Donna now finally realized that they had been all mind controlled by the Master, forced to accept any ridiculous lie that he imposed on them. He had altered their thinking and had turned them into a blind flock of sheep, gathered together to be ushered to the slaughter. The very idea that the pitiful man she saved from the streets had done such a detestable thing to her and her family angered and frustrated her greatly, but she forced back these emotions and tried to keep a clear mind. The only thing that Donna didn't understand was why, as far as she could recall, no real slaughter had happened afterwards. It was as if one moment, the Master was about to bring down the whole of humanity, and in the second he was shot down like a dog by one of the guards and the crisis was over.

Donna knew the Master to be better than this. So what had truly happened? Who had stopped this madness in the past and had prevented the Master from carrying out whatever evil plan he had in mind.

"The Doctor." Donna whispered. Of course, it must be him! He had saved us, like he always did. Suddenly, the fear that had gripped her heart started to melt away. The Doctor was here. She wasn't alone. Not anymore.

And she now knew exactly how to find him.

**22.**

It was already starting to get dark when the Master finally moved away form the window. He sat down in front of the large flatscreen tv and switched it on while his mind kept turning like a uncoiling snake. He poured himself another glass full and leaned back, while he ran his finger over the rim of the glass.

With every channel on the British Island broadcasting the new prime minister's live speech, it wasn't exactly luck that he finally saw his past-self, sitting in the cabinet room at number 10 Downing street, ready to address the nation.

"Well well well." The Master laughed, but it sounded hollow and joyless. "Look at that, doesn't that handsome devil look familiar." He sat a little closer to the screen.

"Britain, Britain, Britain." Harold Saxon spoke, and as he spoke, the whole nation listened, breathlessly and mesmerized.

"What extraordinary times we've had. Just a few years ago, this world was so small. And then they came, out of the unknown, falling from the skies."

The Master almost choked on his drink. "Oh you cheeky bastard!" He blurted out, and grinned to himself. "Using national television to infuse alternating brainwaves into the feeble minds of these earthlings. Very neat!"

Footage followed, showing attacks from different alien races, and all the while, the prime minister of Britain kept talking, about how dangerous the world had become, how they needed him to make it a safer place again, and how they should trust him.

"Oh they must _love_ you." He smiled, and threw a good gulp of Whiskey down his gullet. "Drive allconsuming fear into their hearts to paralyze their rationality, and let the brainwaves do the rest. Simple but effective. I can see now why those UNIT clowns wanted me dead."

"Time and time again the government told you nothing. Well not me. Not Harold Saxon. Because my purpose here today is to tell you this—citizens of Great Britain…I have been contacted. A message, for humanity, from beyond the stars."

As if it was given a sign, at the same time that the Toclefane appeared on screen to salute the human race, the future Master's own silver minion crashed through the window pane and landed next to him on the sofa in a sea of glass shards.

The Master remained calm and carefully picked the pieces of broken glass out of his drink.

"You know, you could have just tapped on the window pane and I would have let you in." He stated.

The Toclefane apologized, but its Master and lord was too busy with concocting a plan to listen. On the flat-screen, Harold Saxon announced that tomorrow, the alien race would present themselves to the world and diplomatic relations with an alien species will begin. The Master finished his drink and turned off the television. His ever-busy mind churned like an efficient super computer.

What's the matter my Master? –

The Master didn't answer, but paced up and down in front of the broken window. He hardly noticed that he cut his feet on the many shards imbedded into the carpet.

What happened to that Donna lady? –

"Hmm? Oh she's gone. Good riddance too."

She was very annoying, wasn't she, Master? –

"Ha! To the point to being unbearably obnoxious! But now that I have a plan and a purpose, I no longer need her around to complicate my affairs."

-You've got a plan? – The Toclefane's metallic voice rose in excitement. –Is it a brilliant one, Master?-

The Master turned his head, his face adorned by a cocky smile.

"I don't need that goody-goody-two-shoes pompous Doctor to find out more about my past." He spread out his hands and gestured around. "I'm in the middle of it, experiencing everything while history is being made. All I need to do is to get a bit closer to my former self than I am now."

But isn't that dangerous? What about the paradox it will create?-

"I won't create one if my past-self doesn't find out about me. Finding Harold Saxon should be easy, but I need a good disguise to hide myself from him."

You are referring to an electronic personal deception field. –

"Exactly. Only, I would need one that works so efficiently that it can even overtake my own telepathic abilities. In other words, I need a device so good that it could even deceive myself."

-But such brilliant device does not exist Master.-

"Oh you can certainly not find it on sale in the local department stores." He took his laserscrewdriver out of his breast pocket. "But what does not exist can be built, as long as I've got the right parts, that is."

The Toclefane understood what was about to happen, and accepted it.

I gladly sacrifice my life for my Lord and Master. – It stated with its emotionless metallic voice.

"Glad you offered. Now I don't need to say please." And without a moment of hesitation, he shot the Toclefane out of the air.

**_TBC_**

Next time: The Master and Donna meet again, on board of the Valliant.

In the meantime, if this story pleases you, please leave a review or comment. It motives me to wrote more.


	9. Chapter 9

**23.**

In a secluded part of London Airport, a large group of international journalists have gathered around the red carpet that was spread out from the private airplane that had just arrived from Washington. They impatiently waited for the president of the United States to appear, and fought for every square inch of tarmac to get closer to the velvet ropes in the front line. Donna, who had disguised herself as a reporter for a local London newspaper, stood her ground and pushed the legion of photographers away who tried to elbow her to the side. She felt like a pebble that was thrown inside a tumbler, when the door of Airforce one finally swung open and president Arnold Winters emerged, wearing a solemn expression on his face as he descended the stairs. He was closely followed by his bodyguards. Flashlights erupted all around him, while the journalists shouted comments and questions to attract his attention.

"President Winters, is it true that the US is going to intercept the broadcast of tomorrow that was set up by the British prime minister?"

"President Winters, are you going to take over the operation from Harold Saxon?"

The president smiled politely at the cameras, waved at the crowd with an amount of faked keenness that only a politician could muster, and mumbled to his press officer that he wanted him to announce to the press that they should expect no comments. He then addressed the British minister walking next to him.

"I don't know what that ass Saxon is playing at, but get me in contact with him as soon as possible. It is bad enough to have him publicly announce this encounter with an extraterrestrial species without consent of the United Nations, but getting me trapped with these journalists as soon as I set one foot on British soil is intolerable. That man doesn't know the meaning of discreet even when it hits him on the head."

The British minister nodded nervously, grabbed his mobile phone out of his breast pocket, and started dialing the number. The phone went over, and he was greeted by a cheerful voice on the other side of the line.

"With Harold Saxon, the prime minister of Britain, speaking."

"Um, yes, sir, you're speaking with Dan Brown here, the minister of foreign affairs. President Arnold Winters has just arrived at London airport and would like to speak to you in private."

" Oh really? I have to say I'm awfully busy. My dear Lucy and I are still trying to make our minds up about what we should do with the bare walls in my office. What do you think, paint or design wallpaper?"

"Prime minister," And the panic started to rise in the minister's voice. "I would strongly advise you to contact president Winters as soon as possible. I fear we'll be heading for a relationship crisis with the US otherwise."

"Oh don't be so absurd. Old Arny is not going to do anything rash. But since you're so tense about it, I will do you a favor and have a little chat with him."

"Thank you sir." The relief was clearly audible in the minister's voice.

My pleasure, besides, I can't have my minister of foreign affairs shit himself in front of one the world leaders, it's very bad PR."

"Shall I check your agenda to make an appointment sir?" The minister asked, ignoring the fact that he just had been insulted.

"No need, I will be there in, oh let's say, one minute?"

"One minute?" The minister looked puzzled.

The sound of a heavy engine tearing up the tarmac pulled the minister's attention away from his phone call. A black, shiny Jaguar with dark windows drove right into the group of journalists and pulled over just in time in front of president Winters. The president's bodyguards immediately responded by aiming their guns it at the vehicle, ready to fire.

"No!" The minister hurried over, waving his hands in the air. "No! It's not what you think! I recognize that car. It's our prime minister. Don't shoot!"

The front door opened, and Harold Saxon climbed out of the Jag with his trademark cockey smile plastered on his face.

"Hi guys! Sorry, didn't see you. There are some disadvantages with the use of tinted glass in the front window." He swirled around on his heels. "Ah! Mister President sir!" He saluted him. "How nice to finally meet you in person. When we spoke over the intercom you sounded taller."

Lucy Saxon stepped out of the passenger's seat. She checked her hair and with her suede purse in her hand, walked up to her husband. Behind the Jaguar, Saxon's extensive escort arrived in four heavily armed military vehicles.

President Winters gestured to his men to lower their weapons, and stepped up to the British prime minister, his chin raised high in indignation.

Donna had been stunned from the moment Saxon arrived at the scene. She studied the man in front of her, who seemed so familiar in gestures and speech and looked so very much like the Master that she had to restrain from stepping forward and slapping him in the face for almost running her over. She could hardly convince herself that this was the same pitiful man that she had saved from the streets, and she could certainly not bring up any sense of sympathy for him. She had always felt a certain undertone of fear when she was close to the Master, and that fear was all that she could sense right now. She looked around nervously, desperate to find that one familiar, friendly face in the crowd. Something inside her convinced her that the Doctor was close. When Saxon's men started to dispatch the press and send them back into the airport lobby, Donna took her chance and slipped away, and hid herself behind a large truck. Harold Saxon continued to address Winters till they finally ended the conversation and the president left. Saxon then turned to his wife, whispered something into her ear, and let his escort guide her to their private jet. For a moment he stood there motionless, as if he was an actor on stage who was waiting for the second act to begin. It arrived in the form of a police van that pulled over right in front of Donna's hiding place. The doors swept open and a black family of three was brought out, they were hand cuffed and manhandled by the police.

"Hi there! The Jones isn't it? Welcome!" Saxon cheered. "Get them on board! I don't want them to miss out on anything."

"The Jones." Donna whispered to herself. "But that's Martha's family!" Her breath caught as she watched how they were herded inside a Land Rover and were driven off. "God, if he ever does this to me…" Donna shook her head in frustration and bit on her lower lip till she tasted blood. She had to regain focus. She kept telling herself that Martha's family was going to be fine. The Doctor was going to stop this madness, although she still had no idea how. She had hoped that she would find him here so close to the Master, but now it seemed that she had failed. Her mind raced. She must get on board with the rest of them. Only then she had a chance to meet up with the Doctor. She climbed inside the truck and moved to the back where she hid herself behind the stacked up boxes of ammunition.

The army commander waited till the prime minister was escorted to his private jet before ordering his men to leave. Donna moved further back in the shadows and kept herself silent when heavy boots stepped onto the back of the truck and the armed soldiers sat down on the benches lining the cabin. The backdoor closed with a loud bang, and the truck began to move, driving Saxon's men and Donna to the waiting cargo planes at the other side of the landing field.

**24.**

"All maintenance personnel boarding are requested to show their ID at gate 1. I repeat, all personnel arriving at the Valiant are requested to identify themselves at the gate."

A group of workmen were lined up at the docking bridge that connected their airship with the Valiant. The Master, dressed in a blue overall, a grey T-shirt, and wearing a yellow safety helmet that shielded his eyes, stepped forward, and held an empty piece of paper right in front of the nose of the officer who was guarding gate 1. The man studied the blank sheet, than gazed at the Master's face before he went back to the paper to check the face in the non-existing picture. "Anything wrong?" The Master asked, nonchalantly.

"No, it's fine." The officer motions with his head for him move further without giving it a second thought. The Master walked across the bridge and boarded the Valiant, entering the main passageway with the rest of the workmen. He followed the stream of grey/blue men, but diverted unnoticed from the group as soon as he passed the engine rooms. There must be more interesting things to discover on this airship than leaky pipes or broken machinery. He turned a corner, slipping past the guards without even the faintest attempt to be inconspicuous, and went down the stairs to reach the lower deck. Something was hidden down there. Something important. He could sense it. He could hear it cry out to him and to every living Timelord left in existence. It was the song of time itself. He turned around, and started pacing through the corridors. His feet picked up speed and before he realized it he was running towards the direction of the sound.

The Doctor rushed inside a tiny room at the back of the half-hidden corridor. His face lit up when he finally set eyes on his beloved Tardis.

"Oh at last!" He exclaimed in great relief.

Even Martha, who was worried about the fate of her family, allowed herself to smile, Jack stepped forward inquisitively.

"But, what's it doing on board of the Valiant?"

The Master halted when he caught sight of the three figures standing inside the small space. Two of them were Earthlings, one of them was certainly not. He could sense his presence like one could sense the sea behind the dunes because of its smell, taste and sound. His breath caught, and for a moment he didn't know what to do. He had expected to find a Tardis, but now he had bumped into another Timelord as well.

The Doctor suddenly froze, aware of a cold but familiar sensation that slivered down his spine, but slipped from his consciousness the moment he tried to pay attention to it. He shrugged it off and pushed open the doors of the Tardis. The Tardis interior bathed in a red glow, and the precious core of the machine was stripped bare, only to be replaced by a cage of ugly wires that hummed of the massive currents that passed through.

The Doctor's hearts sunk as he realized what had happened to his beloved time machine. "No no no no, It can't be!"

Martha gazed at the Tardis core, an ugly feeling crept up on her.

"What has he done to it? It's sounds like it's….sick.'

The Master followed them inside the Tardis. Thanks to his deception filter, he was fully hidden from the Doctor and his companions. One look at what Saxon's had concocted, and it was enough for him to understand what the Tardis had become.

Jack swallowed a dry lump that caught inside his throat.

"Is that what I think it is?" He muttered.

"It's a paradox machine." Both Timelords answered simultaneously, one in fear and utter disgust, and the other in excitement and admiration.

**25.**

Harold Saxon leaned back in his seat, and popped another jelly baby in his mouth. He grinned joylessly as president Winters continued to address the world in front of the cameras, a tedious lecture on the importance of this encounter with an alien race to humanity. It was so incredibly cliché and dull that it would have bored him to murder and mutilation if it wasn't for the fact that he could keep in mind that he was soon going to wipe that pompous smile off that fat hypocrite's face.

His grin became just a little tense when from the corner of his eyes, he caught them entering the room, the Doctor and his companions. He fiddled the silver ring on his finger and leaned forward, the smile was still plastered on his lips but his eyes became alert. He was surprised that his greatest nemesis could be so stupid to think that a simple deception filter would deceive him. The Doctor used to be brilliant, oh so incredibly clever. Now he kept himself at the sideline, and revealed to that Torchwood freak that he wanted to bring him down by draping that third rate deception filter around his neck. Was that the Doctor's "big plan" to save the world? He couldn't help to snigger at this preposterous idea. His lovely Lucy glanced at him nervously. He took her hand and kissed it, while awarding her with a small reassuring wink.

He returned his attention to that American clown who was finally wrapping up his organ-grinding-monkey performance. A communal gasp escaped from everybody inside room when the Toclefanes finally materialized in front them.

"You're not the Master." The first Toclefane proclaimed.

"We like the Mr. Master." The second one commented.

"We don't like you." The third one said, and turned away from the president.

The gibbering American idiot started talking about claiming mastership over the Toclefanes, but the silver minions were not impressed.

"The man is stupid." Concluded the first.

"Master is our friend." Lamented the second one.

"Where is my Master? Pretty please?" Asked the third.

Harold Saxon's realized that his time had finally come. He jumped up from his seat. "Oh, all right then. It's me! Ta-dah!" He exclaimed and slid in front of the cameras and into the center of attention, stealing the US president's limelight. "Sorry, sorry. I have this effect. People just get obsessed. Is it the smile? Is it the aftershave? Is it the capacity to laugh at myself? I don't know. It's crazy!"

"Saxon! What are you rambling about!" The US president addressed him in a stern voice.

Saxon crossed his arms and looked down at him with the same haughtiness that Donna would have recognized all too well. "I'm taking control, uncle Sam. Starting with you." He turned to the Toclefane hovering next to him. "Kill him." He simple stated. The Toclefane shot out an orange beam and incinerated Winters, and he combusted into a cloud of burning ashes. A woman screamed and chaos erupted, with everyone trying to flee in panic. Saxon's men pulled out their weapons.

"Nobody move." The head commander barked. Saxon laughed cruelly as the men and women froze under the threats and were herded together in the middle of the room. The Doctor rushed towards him, using the commotion as a cover, but was quickly apprehended by the guards. They forced him to kneel down in front of Saxon.

"We meet at last, Doctor!" Saxon's voice was slick and dripped with sarcasm, while his smile broadened into a malicious grin. "Oh, I do love saying that…"

The Master, who stood in the shadow in the back of the room and had remained unnoticed to both the Doctor and his former self, quietly observed the drama that played out in front him. It intrigued him that he did know Donna's precious Doctor after all, and he knew himself well enough to immediately see that the defeat of the other Timelord exhilarated him. Saxon glowed like a kid who had just discovered his greatest present under the Christmas tree. But what he didn't understand is why he hated him so much. Did the Doctor wrong him in the past, or did he wrong the Doctor? His train of thoughts was interrupted when the male companion ran forward in an attempt to take down Saxon but was shot dead with one well-aimed beam from the laserscrewdriver. The girl rushed over to him and cradled him in her arms.

Master, just calm down! Just look at what you're doing and stop. If you could see yourself." The Doctor pleaded.

Saxon stepped down the bridge towards his prisoner. He gazed down at him, amused.

"It's that sound, the sound inside your head. What if I could help?" The Doctor tried.

Saxon shrugged indifferently. "Oh how to shut him up." He snorted. "I never had a good solution for that continuous yapping of yours. By the way, you should reconsider your choice of companions Doc, they get dumber and dumber with each incarnation, and I'm not talking about the girlie and the freak here."

He gestured to his men and they brought in Donna, who was fighting every step till she saw the man knelt down in front of Saxon.

"Doctor!" She wanted to rush towards him, but was held back by the guards. "Oh I'm so glad I found you!"

"Donna? Donna Noble?" The Doctor stumbled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to contact you!"

"What? But why? Why now?" The Doctor looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly turned his attention back to Saxon. "Why is she here? Let her go! She has nothing to do with this."

"Really? So you didn't send her down snuffling in the cargo deck then?" He aimed the laserscrewdriver and fired. Donna shrunk away as the beam hit the floor right in front of her feet.

"Stop it!" The Doctor yelled. "No more killing! Please, I beg of you!"

"Oh, you're just saying that because I can only kill her once, unlike freakboy over there." Saxon pouted, and burst into laughter.

Donna was forced to kneel down next to the Doctor. She glanced over at him. "Doctor." She whispered. "Don't fear him. It's going to be all right." She took his hand. "I know you Doctor, I mean, really know you. I'm not who you think I am." She bent towards him and whispered her secret into his ear.

"Hey! Stop that! You naughty girl!" Saxon motioned to his men and they dragged the Doctor away from Donna. As he was pulled away, the Doctor kept staring at her, his eyes wide in disbelief and fear.

The Master sat down on the steps, facing the Doctor, and relishing the fear he saw in his eyes.

"You know Doc, I have to confess, you didn't exactly run into me by accident. I did some planning on my side. Remember professor Lazarus? And his genetic manipulation device?"

He turned his head and looked at Martha.

"Or did you think that your little sister Tish got that job merely based on her wits?" He returned his gaze to the Doctor. "I've been laying out traps for you all this time."

He rose up slowly while he played with his laserscrewdriver, letting it balance between his fingers.

"If I could just concentrate all that Lazarus technology into one little screwdriver…" He paused for a moment. "But…oh, if only I had the Doctor's biological code."

He tapped his fingers under his chin in mock contemplation. "Wait a minute!" He snapped his fingers and rushed over to the silver case that stood on the conference table. "I have his hand!" He opened it, and exposed a glass jar with a severed hand inside. The Doctor turned pale.

"And if Lazarus made himself younger." Saxon mused, and twisted the laserscrewdriver. The light on the tip of the device switched on, producing a low and threatening humming sound. "What if I reverse it Doctor, with what…a hundred years?"

Saxon fired the laserscrewdriver at the Doctor. The beam hit him full in the chest, and the Doctor screamed and convulsed in pain as the device started aging every living cell in his body at frightening speed.

Donna watched with a horrified expression on her face. This wasn't right, she thought. She knew from her memories that the Master was defeated almost the minute that president Winters was assassinated, but that didn't happen. And now, that monster was doing something horrifying to the Doctor, he was destroying him in front of her eyes.

Saxon finally stopped, allowing the Doctor to raise himself up from the floor. His face had turned into that of a very old man, and his fragile body shivered of the very effort that it took to move his wasted muscles.

Martha gazed at him, her face struck by grief and fear. Jack revived and opened his eyes.

"Teleport." He whispered to her and handed her the manipulator.

"I can't." Martha spoke softly.

"We can't stop him. Get out of here. Get out."

The Doctor collapsed on the floor. Martha crawled to his side and took him in her arms.

"I've got you." She whispered, her voice strained with grief.

Saxon was delighted. "Ah, our would-be doctor. But tonight, Martha Jones, we've flown them in all the way from prison…"

The door swept open and Martha's family was brought in by the guards. It pained Donna to see how Martha had to watch helplessly how they were ushered into the room like cattle and were left at the mercy of this ruthless madman.

"The Toclefanes." The Doctor spoke, his voice terribly weakened. "What are they?"

Saxon's mad smile turned into a sadistic grin. "If I told you Doctor. Your hearts would break."

"Is it ready Master?" The first Toclefane questioned.

"Is the machine singing?" Asked the second.

Saxon checked his watch. "Two minutes past." He replied and mounted the stairs with two steps at the time. He turned to the cameras that were still rolling. "So Earthlings! Basically, it's the end of the world." His smile widened, he raised his laserscrewdriver high as if it was a king's scepter, and shouted from the top of his lungs.

"HERE COME THE DRUMS!"

Somewhere in the belly of the great airship, the paradox machine activated, and time itself was altered, violently ripped apart to allow the creation of a massive paradox. The sky spit open and an army of Toclefanes, six billion strong, entered through the rift and rained down like a cloud of deadly arrows that darkened the sky.

"Decimate them! Remove one tenth of the population!" Saxon ordered.

His army descended upon the people of the earth, entered their buildings, or caught them out in the open, and killed every tenth person that they encountered. Slitting, slicing and dismembering till blood washed over the streets of Tokyo, London and New York. All over the world, the human race was being massacred.

Donna cried when she heard the desperate pleads for help that flooded in via the intercom.

#Valiant, this is London, people are being slaughtered! They're everywhere! Help us!#

#Valiant, the London Unit headquarters are under attack! What do we do?#

#For God's sake! Help us! My men are dying!#

Her heart hardened to stone when she realized that her mum and granddad were down there, suffering the same fate. She looked at the Doctor, who lay huddled against Martha, his brilliant spirit crushed under Saxon's tyranny. She gazed at Martha's family, with their faces devoid of hope and struck down by fear, and she stared at Jack, who was gutted by the defeat and horrified by the lost of so many lives.

And all the time, the cries of the dying and wounded were ringing in her ears.

She couldn't take anymore of this.

She crawled to the Doctor who looked her in the eyes and immediately understood what she was attempting to do.

"Donna, no." He whispered.

Donna took the sonicscrewdriver out of the Doctor's pocket, and hid it up her sleeve.

"I have to. I can't let this happen."

She kissed him quickly on his forehead.

"Harry!" Lucy Saxon warned. "That woman you found in the cargo-bay, she took something from the Doctor!"

Harold Saxon turned around, just when Donna sprung up from her position and pointed the sonicscrewdriver at his hearts.

Saxon eyed at her maliciously. "So, it's Donna Noble, isn't it? Tell me, what are you exactly planning to do with that?"

"I'm going to kill you." Donna spoke, her voice trembling.

Saxon's men pointed their arms at her, and the three Toclefanes in the room closed in on her with their blades exposed.

"Really?" Saxon laughed. He didn't seem to be intimidated at all. "And you are trying to convince me that you, with your feeble Earthling brain, know how a sonicscrewdriver works?"

Donna swallowed hard. "No." She whispered. "But I would figure it works kinda like a laserscrewdriver. The funny thing is, that it was you who taught me how to use one." She activated the Doctor's weapon and a blue light erupted that shot straight at Saxon's chest.

"No!" The Doctor screamed. Saxon leaped aside but was struck in the shoulder. The beam didn't incinerate him, but passed right through his flesh without causing any damage, and collided with the control console on the bridge where it deactivated the security system. Donna's eyes widened, the sonicscrewdriver trembled in her hands when all the doors in the room slid open simultaneously and triggered the alarms.

"You taught me…how to open locked doors…" Donna mumbled, her courage sank into her shoes when she realized that she had made a horrible mistake. Saxon descended the stairs calmly. "Disarm her." He ordered, and his guards grabbed Donna by her arms and took the screwdriver away from her.

"Donna Noble." Saxon hissed, and took his own laserscrewdriver and pushed the tip under her chin. "The one companion of the Doctor, who would always be lovingly remembered as the woman who was too stupid to use a screwdriver." He gazed at the Doctor triumphantly. "Oh don't look so anxious Doc, you know I'm gonna get rid of all of them eventually. There is nothing you can do about it. At least I promise to let you watch." He activated the weapon in his hand. "So let me start with the most annoying one, this noisy, red tart from Cheswick."

A red light beamed across the room and struck Saxon. It burnt his hand and he dropped his laserscrewdriver on the floor, while he yelled out in pain and surprise.

"Who did this?" He screamed. Suddenly, a man dressed like a mechanic appeared out of thin air and rushed at Donna Noble. A silver piece of metal dangled from a rope around his neck and sent out strong waves of dimensional distortions. Saxon immediate understood that it was a deception filter. A good one that was designed well enough to fool him. The man shot down the two guards and pulled Donna away, but Saxon had just enough time to catch a glimpse of his face.

Donna was forced to the ground with the Master on top, shielding her off from the Toclefanes who now sprung into action. He grabbed her hand and pushed down hard on the metal device secured around his neck. The emergency teleport that he created from what was left of the future Toclefane switched on and they were transported from the airship and out of danger.

**26.**

They materialized at the exact same spot where the Valiant disk had crashed landed a day before in the sewage system of central London, and plunged down into the water basin. When Donna emerged back to the surface, she stared straight into the Master's face and panicked.

"Get away from me!" She shoved an elbow in his neck and pushed his head back down under the water. "Murderer!" She screamed. "You murderer!"

The Master fought her off, and forced himself back to the surface, where he swallowed air and water into his lungs.

"Stop it! It's me you stupid bint! Donna!" He dodged her blind kicks and blows and grabbed her head between his hands, forcing her to look her in the eyes. "It's me! Calm down. I've got you out. You're safe. You're safe now."

Donna stopped pounding on his chest with her fists and froze. "You're…you're the Master."

"Yes. Yes I am." The Master said, half irritated, while trying to regain his breath and coughing up water.

"Harold Saxon, and the Master, they are the same." She spoke as if in shock. "You did those horrible thing to the Doctor and Martha and Jack. You killed all those people." She staggered back away from him.

"Donna." The Master splashed after her.

"Oh don't Donna me!" She hissed, retrieving some of her fiery personality. You are a bloodthirsty monster! And I saved you from Unit while I should have let you rot!"

"Donna, wait!"

Screams erupted from the streets above. The Toclefanes were clearing out entire London, murdering anyone they encountered in their path. Donna's breath caught when she saw the dark stains that spread over the side of the basin. It came from the blood of the victims that spilled from the sewage wells, and slivered in thick streams down the walls into the sewage tunnels below. A dark sense of desperation overtook her. She struggled further, wading through cold water, while the tears started to roll down her cheeks.

"Donna, please wait. I can help!"

She halted, but didn't turn to look at him.

"Don't try to get out there on your own. He's going to hunt you down and kill you. You're not safe."

The Master came after her, and placed his hand on her shoulder. Donna swallowed.

"Stay with me. I'll keep you safe."

"Why?" She finally turned to face him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because we're in the same predicament. He saw me Donna. He knows who I am, and believe me…" The Master swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head fearfully. "I know what's going on inside his paranoid head. Someone who thinks and acts like him, and can predict every step he's about to undertake, he sees it as a threat. A potential danger that should be eliminated. Even if the opponent is his future self. That's how his brain works. And thanks to that paradox machine, he can get rid of me without consequences." He looked at Donna, his eyes pleaded with her to understand. "To be frank, one way or the other, I'm fucked."

"He's mad." Donna muttered to herself. "Well, you're mad." She gazed at him, suspicious and confused. "And now what, you're one of the good guys now? You want me to trust you? Are insane? You brought this down on us, all this death and destruction, you were responsible for all of it!"

"And I can make it stop!" He replied solemnly. "Donna, I saw it in your mind when you restored me. You can't remember any of this because in your perception, in your version of reality, this never happened, and I can't exist if this continues. For me to become who I am I need my former self to be defeated, how moronic this ever may sound. Trust me. I'm on your side. I have no choice."

Donna gazed back at the Master, her emotions in turmoil. She hated him for what he had done, but she also realized that she needed to trust him. In her heart she wanted so much to believe that what he was telling her was true. Outside, the world was coming to an end, and she felt like she was all on her own, with no one left to help her except for him.

She sighed. "All right. But if you betray me or the Doctor, I swear to God, you're gonna wake up one day with a knife sticking out of your neck."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the Master's face. "Nothing worse than a woman scorned." He remarked, and offered her a hand. Donna took it, hesitantly.

**TBC**

As always, reviews and comments are much appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

**27.**

The empty wastelands that were once the lush woodlands of Poland stretched out as far as the eye could see. Blackened tree stumps threw morbid shadows on smoldering ashes that rose high in the air with every soft breeze of wind that caressed the scarred land. A lonely figure walked alone over the devastated landscape, closing her eyes as she passed the remains of a family of four lying in a shallow pit, twisted limbs and distorted faces, the flesh pulled away over their teeth and the eye-sockets picked empty by scavenging birds. She took out the coarsely drawn map and studied her surroundings, but recognized very little. The road that once connected the city of Krakow with the rest of the world was hardly still there, the asphalt broken up so badly that it had become inaccessible for any sort of vehicle. She climbed over the huge chunks of ruble, and gazed at the east, where the early morning light simmered at the horizon and revealed the ancient city, now reduced to pitiful ruins. When she ventured closer, she noticed the high voltage chain link fences placed around the city borders. Watchtowers were stationed in between, and were heavily guarded.

Martha hid behind the barren branches of a fallen tree. The entire place reminded her of a German concentration camp. In fact, the gateways from the Nazi camps in the nearby regions had been dismantled on the Master's orders and hauled to Krakow to be used as the doorways to the city, to cruelly mock the last humans that had survived the complete destruction of the European mainland. The chilling message of "Arbeit macht frei" cast in iron above the old gates made Martha shudder.

She waited for the signal. It came in the disguise of a shrill birdcall, coming from the other side of the fence. She stalked into the direction of the sound, and found hidden behind a wood of dead scrubs, a hole in the densely knitted chains, which was just big enough for a human being to crawl through. Behind the fence, a tall, board shouldered man with a gaunt face and hollow eyes beckoned her. He took off his ragged coat and draped the fabric around the opening, making it safe for her to pass. Martha didn't hesitate and wriggled herself through. She took the man's hand and was pulled up at the other side.

Martha Jones?" He spoke in broken English with a heavy north European accent.

Martha nodded. "Yes, and you must be mister Csovkas. Someone from the resistance in the labor camp in Muchen informed me about you."

"Yes, yes, I'm so glad you made it." He smiled, shaking her hand enthusiastically. Martha realized that he must have been a handsome man before all this had happened, but now the grief and the harsh way of life that he was forced to endure as a slave laborer had left its marks him. He looked like an old man of 50. "Call me Michael." He said. "I will bring you to the slave quarters in block C. You will be safe there. It's actually the safest place in the camp since yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" Martha asked, but dreaded the answer.

"They cleared it." Michael spoke, hiding his emotions. "Lined up everyone and send them away to the experimentation camp." He rose up and stalked into the direction of the barracks. "Follow me closely. Don't stall or they will catch you in the searchlights."

Martha did as she was told. She could read from Michael's face that the events of the previous day had shocked him. Perhaps there were friends and relatives in block C who had been sent away. She had heard about these experimentation camps. They were designed to test the new destructive weapons concocted by the Master's depraved mind on his human victims. Nobody had ever survived those camps to tell the tale.

Martha gently put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I don't need to be safe. I came to meet your people. Bring me to another barrack that is occupied. I need to speak to each and every one of them. It's important."

Michael first looked at her in amazement, but then, realizing that she meant every word she said, nodded understandingly. "That way to block A and B. We must hurry."

**28.**

The slave-quarters were nothing more than wooden huts, built on top of the ruins of the old stone buildings, slapped together in short time, using the remaining trees that were left standing after the great fire. They were damp and cold in the winter, and many of the people who were forced to live in them were ill, suffering of diseases that were supposed to be extinct by grace of modern medicine and hygiene, but roamed free once more now that both were absent in these bad living conditions. Whole families lived cramped up together, sleeping on bunk-beds that were little more than wooden shelves. The stench of sweat, urine and human waste was overwhelming. Martha ignored her senses, and sat down on one of the beds. A crowd of ragged men and women gathered around her, all in awe of her reputation, and faint hope that had long since faded glinted once more in their hollow eyes.

Donna took out some food from her backpack and handed it over to a thin woman who had almost wasted away into nothing. She was starving herself, but couldn't stand it to see these people suffer like this. The thin woman smiled thankfully at her, and broke up the bread in tiny pieces. She handed a piece to Martha, and shared the rest of it with the men and women who needed it the most. This small act of kindness warmed Martha's heart. The Master may have enslaved them, but he had not succeeded to crush their spirits completely. A trace of humanity, the essence what made them human, was still left inside their souls.

There was still reason for her to believe that she didn't wander the earth in vain.

She waited till every one of them had found a place to sit. Then she started, telling them her story, the reason why she risked her life to wander over the earth on her own. She told them exactly what she had told countless of them before.

She told them about the Doctor, and how one day he would return to save them all.

She had almost finished the story when one of the slave workers rushed in and pushed through the crowd.

"They're coming! The guards, they know that something is wrong!"

The woman who had taken the bread from Martha took the blankets from the beds and threw it over her as a cover.

"Hide her!" She urged. They crowed around her. The doors flung open and the guards entered with their guns aimed at the frightened slaves.

"Where is the girl?" The commander asked.

"What girl, sir?" The woman replied. "We were preparing to go to bed. Nobody came in since we were brought back from the coal mines."

The commander walked up to her and knocked her down with the back of his riffle. He gestured to his men, and they dragged in Csoskav. He was severely beaten and barely alive. The guards threw him on the floor, a few meters away from Martha. The commander stepped forward and cocked the safety-pin from his revolver. "Do you think I'm that easily deceived? Hmm? We saw this piece of shit, crawl up to the gate to collect her! Do you know what our Lord and Master would do if he found out? Hmmm? Martha Jones is a menace to our Master's safety and should be removed at all costs. So I ask you once more." He pointed the gun at Michael's temple, who closed his eyes. "Where is Martha Jones?"

"I'm here." Martha rose, her heart jumped madly in her chest, but she couldn't stand the idea of trading Michael's life for her own. "Don't hurt him. I surrender."

The commander looked at her, his face remained cold as stone. Michael gazed up her, his eyes were struck with grief but appeared to remain calm as he resigned with his fate.

Martha closed her eyes as the commander pulled the trigger.

"Take her in." He then ordered. "And send a message to the Valiant. Tell them we have capture Martha Jones for the glory and protection of our one true Lord and Master."

**29.**

Martha was dragged to a barrack in the middle of the slumps. There she was bound by her wrists and interrogated by the commander. They searched through her backpack and retrieved a metal casing. They opened it and found a special gun inside. Four tubes with brightly colored liquid were secured in the casing's lining. One of the men checked the strange weapon and found that the tubes fitted perfectly in the ammunition holder.

"What is this?" The commander barked.

When Martha didn't answer his questions, they started to beat her, first only with their hands and fists, but later when she was so weakened that she could no longer stand and collapsed on the floor, they kicked her till she was bruised and broken, and was barely conscious. Still, she refused to talk.

They dragged her into a dogcage in the back of the barrack, locked it and left her there to rot. For two days Martha waited, slipping in and out of consciousness, while her blood dried under her dirty clothes and her thirst turned the texture of her tongue and throat into that of sandpaper. Her mind kept going back to that moment, when she and Doctor had shared one last secret together. Her heart filled with regret. She had not reached every one, her journey to save mankind had been too short.

She had failed him.

And now, she could only wait for death to take her.

It was on the third morning when she opened her eyes to a pair of expensive, Italian leather shoes that were pacing in front of her cage. She looked up and her heart froze when she recognize that repugnant predatory smile. The Master looked down at her as if he was studying an insignificant insect on the dissection table. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it against his nose.

The commander who had captured Martha stared nervously at his Lord and Master with his knees buckling. It actually surprised her that he wasn't kneeling down and worshiping him like some sort of vengeful God.

"What did you feed this girl? She smells like a used toilet." The Master snorted, breathing through the handkerchief.

"Um what? Nothing, my Lord. We barely kept her alive after we were finished interrogating her."

"Oh, brilliant! And you came up with that decision all by yourself?" He clapped in his hands. "Now tell me Einstein, what good is she to me when she's dead?"

The commander shrunk away like a beaten dog. "But, my Lord. You assured us that she was a threat. A dangerous assassin who resides with the resistance. We were to eliminate her at all costs."

"You don't understand it, do you?" He rolled the piece of fabric into a ball and threw it on the floor. "I don't like to be contradicted. The last time someone contradicted me was…hmm let me see, two hours ago at breakfast. Told me that I ordered a slice of lemon in my tea while I obviously, I didn't." He took out his laserscrewdriver. The commander whimpered and threw himself at his feet.

"I don't even like lemons." The Master muttered, and held the screwdriver in his hand and clicked on it continuously as if he was playing with a ballpoint. The commander stared at it with eyes wide with fear. "Please my Lord! I didn't want to defy you. I swear. I didn't know! I didn't know that you wanted to keep her alive!"

The Master smirked at him. "You know what I did to that man who bought me tea with lemon? Hmm?" The commander shook his head, and kept mumbling his pleads.

The Master stepped on the rolled up handkerchief that he had dropped on the floor. A tiny little pellet, hidden in the folds, cracked open and a cloud of gas escaped into the atmosphere and immediately filled up the room. The commander, who was the closest to the device, took two mouthfuls and started choking. He rolled with his back on the floor, and his eyelids became heavy as he stared up to the ceiling. The Master's face appeared, his trademark grin still on his lips, while the antidote that he had inhaled from the handkerchief kept him safe from the harmful effects of the gas.

"Don't worry, it only makes you sleepy, it won't kill you." The Master rose up slowly. A scream came from outside, and the door to the barrack flew open. A soldier, a very dead soldier, collapsed on the floor with his throat cut open from ear to ear. Behind him, a flock of Toclefanes appeared, their rotating blades were stained crimson with blood. They hovered next to the Master, just in front of the commander whose intoxicated gaze widened in fear.

"Like I said, the gas won't kill you. But my friends certainly will."

He calmly stepped over the commander while the Toclefanes descended upon the paralyzed man, and shredded the flesh from his bones while he screamed in agony. Martha, who was already weakened but was now really feeling the effects of the gas, watched in horror how the commander continued to scream while his head was reduced to a grinning skull with empty sockets. He only stopped when the last tendons were severed, and his jaw dropped on the floor.

The Master opened her cage with his laserscrewdriver. He grabbed her under her arms and dragged her out. She tried to fight him off, but she was so weakened, that he hardly noticed that she was in fact struggling and not just wriggling around without purpose.

"Let..let me go…I won't…I won't tell you anything…" She whispered. She was vaguely aware that outside the barrack, the men were shooting and fighting off the Toclefanes who appeared to have invaded the camp by the orders of their Lord and Master. So everybody was being massacred, she thought, even the soldiers who had carried out the Master's orders. Martha swallowed and held back her tears, she felt sorry for the people she had met in the slave-quarters. She had risked their lives for nothing. The Master crouched down beside her, just like he had done with the commander. Martha believed that she would soon follow him in death.

"Martha Jones." The Master spoke, as if trying out a name that was new to him. "We meet again, I guess."

"Kill me." She said, without emotions. "I won't talk. Just…Let me die…"

The Master shook his head. He picked up the handkerchief from the floor and shook out the shards of the gas pellet.

"You're asking this to the wrong person." He simply stated, and pressed the cloth against Martha's nose, supplying the antidote to her, and saving her life.

**30.**

She woke up inside a caravan, lying on a makeshift bed comprised of stacked up boxes, old mattresses and straw. Above her dangled two luminescent tubes that emitted a weak blue light. The interior shook violently, making the tubes swing from side to side and every now and then one of the cabinets above her flew open, spilling out its content. There were people all around her, jam-packed together inside. They were talking quietly to each other. Someone laughed. A woman's face appeared before her, it was the woman in the camp who had tried to hide her from the commander. She had a purple bruise on her left jaw that was already beginning to fade. When she noticed that Martha was by consciousness, she quickly turned to the girl sitting next to her.

"She's awake! Get her, quickly." She wiped the sweat off Martha's forehead with a damp cloth. "It's fine my dear, you're safe now. The resistance saved us. They cleared the camp and are taking us to a hiding place in the west."

"No…" Martha rasped. "He was there…I saw him…"

"Who was there?"

"The Master….He killed him….He killed the commander."

"Oh no sweetheart." The woman shook her head, convinced that the poor girl was still delirious. "That wasn't…" She stopped, although liberated, she still could not speak his name without fear. "You were saved by the resistance. They found you in the barrack 4, and executed the commander before they brought you in here with us. Oh don't move, you shouldn't move."

She gently pushed Martha back under the strange light.

"What…" Martha mumbled.

"The lights, they help you heal." The woman brushed a hair from her face. "Those monsters have beaten you so severely, we were afraid that you wouldn't make it." She smiled compassionately. "But luckily they had this." She took Martha's hand. "See, your bruises are fading." Martha stared at her skin that looked like it had been healing for weeks. She moved her fingers and didn't feel the expected crushing pain.

"But…they broke them. They broke my fingers." She gazed up in astonishment. "What kind of device is this?"

The woman was starting to get nervous. "Please, you shouldn't exert yourself."

"But this is not right. Where does the resistance find this kind of advanced alien technology? And the Master…I know I saw him…He was there." She struggled to get up, her suspicion and fear getting the better of her. Another hand pushed her back, but this time it wasn't the woman from the slave labor camp, but Donna Noble.

"Martha calm down. It's all right."

Martha Jones stared into the ginger-haired woman's face. First she didn't recognize her, but then her memories of her last moments on the Valiant came back to her and a sigh of pleasant surprise escaped her lips.

"You are that woman, Donna Noble, who tried to save the Doctor on board of the Valiant."

Donna nodded, thankful that she remembered. "Yes. And you're safe. We got you out."

"She's still confused." The woman from the barracks stated. "She thought she saw the alien antichrist with her in barrack 4. Poor thing."

"But I did, I did see him. Donna I swear, he was there with his army of Toclefanes. He killed the commander, he let them slice him up till there wasn't any flesh left on his bones."

Donna sighed and turned to the other woman. "Could you leave me alone with her for a moment. I might be able to talk some sense into her." She waited till the woman had moved away to the back.

"Please, you have to believe me." Martha pleaded.

Donna came closer to her to make sure that what she was about to tell her wouldn't be overheard by the rest.

"I believe you. And I promise, I'm going to explain everything once we have arrived at the sanctuary. But for now, don't tell the others that you've seen the Master. I don't want them to panic."

Martha gazed back at her in silence.

"You can trust me." Donna said, hoping fiercely that she would.

Martha gazed at the group of men and women who all had been saved from the slave labor camp. The resistance had treated them well, and they've been given food and warm blankets, and were in good health. More importantly, they seemed to entrust their lives in Donna's hands, and looked upon her as their savior. She recalled how Donna had selflessly put herself in danger in order to save them from the Master. And the Doctor, he knew her. She had been his companion, someone who the Doctor trusted. So perhaps, she should do the same.

**31.**

It took them 6 days to travel from Poland to the north of France, and by that time, Martha had fully recovered from her injuries, and was in such good condition that she could help the men from the resistance push the caravans when they got stuck in the derelict roads. She learned to her amazement that there were only 5 of them; 5 brave men and women who had fought off a heavily armed group of 20 guards of the Saxon regime in order to liberate 200 slave workers. To her it almost seemed impossible that they had succeeded. But every time when her mind became suspicious and rounded up these questions, she was reminded by Donna that she should keep them to herself till they have arrived at their secret hideout. Everything would then be explained to her once they were there. Martha became more impatient with each day that they spend on the road. It was particularly frustrating, since she didn't exactly know what their supposed destination was. But at the 7th day after they had left Krakow, they finally stopped at the riverside of the Seine that was lined by woodlands. That night, the refugees were transferred into small sailing boats, arranged by the resistance. Under the cover of darkness, they sailed down the river, into the direction of the city of Paris. They reached the metropolis in the early hours of the morning, passing the ugly monotonous flats that comprised the vast suburbs, before entering the city's ancient center. Underneath the Austerlitz bridge they were transferred once more into rowing boats that glided more easily underneath the lower bridges. Some of them were given wooden poles to help push the boat forward. A gruesome smell rose from the water, and the deeper they ventured into the city's heart, the more repellent it became. It struck Martha as odd that the 3 meters tall poles could actually reach the bottom of the river, but as the sun started to rise in the east, the first rays of morning light revealed to her the gruesome reason why the Seine had become so shallow. Headless corpses were drifting in the water, limbs and torso so swollen with fluid that the arteries had erupted underneath the blue translucent skin. The whole river was saturated with decay, and the smell of rotting flesh attracted flies that took off in large angry swarms when they approached. Martha averted her eyes. Someone in the boat lurched over the side and vomited.

Donna put a hand on Martha's shoulder. "Hold on. We're almost there."

"What happened here? All these people…I thought the Master had send every one away to the labor camps?"

"Paris was an extinction zone." Donna answered. She too had difficulty looking at the dead, although she had entered the city via this waterway multiple times before. "All the large cities in the west were complete annihilated, the citizens slaughtered, to function as an example, a warning for humanity to not to rise against the Master. Nobody was left alive."

"But then, why are we here?" Martha responded, repulsed and shaken to the core by her story.

"It wasn't my idea, but someone convinced us that the safest place on earth to hide is in one of the monster's barrows, for he would not expect it." Donna sighed. "Until now, the plan had worked." She nodded towards the river shore line that glided past them and seemed so deceptively peaceful. "It's almost unthinkable isn't it? I mean, this is Paris, I always wanted to come visit here. All those famous monuments, and busy shopping streets, the Eiffel tower, and the fancy boulevards. But now, it's just completely deserted. All those people who used to live here…are all gone. It's never going to be the same again."

Melancholy settled over the two women, and they did not speak till the boats drifted under the Petit pont and docked underneath the bridge. The refugees disembarked and stood on shore, taking in the surroundings. They were on Ile de la cite, a small natural island in the middle of the city. In front of them, the famous gothic façade of the Notre Dame rose above the streets. It was hardly damaged by the fires that had raged through the metropolis during the attacks of the Toclefanes. The walls and the roof, thanks to the arched exterior support, were all still standing, although the once beautiful stained glass windows had been destroyed, leaving only the iron-cast skeletal frames as a ghostly reminder of its previous glory. But what struck Martha was the huge contrast between this small island and the rest of the city. Here, large groups of people bustled around the cathedral, carrying goods inside for storage, or were distributing food or attending the wounded who had just arrived by boat. The small public garden in the back of the cathedral had been turned into a vegetable path and men and women were busy making the land suitable to cultivate food. Everywhere she looked, other men and women were hanging up metallic spheres on lampposts and wooden poles.

"Are they what I think they are?" Martha gasped.

Donna nodded to her. "Toclefanes. Don't be alarmed. They're deactivated. We use them to create a deception filter to hide us from the Archangel network. The Master uses the existing satellites and his army of Toclefanes to scan for any non-authorized human activity. We have found a way to corrupt their signals and use the Archangel network itself to shield us from the Master's security system. To him this spot of Paris is as dead as the surrounding neighborhood." Donna ascended the stairs to the cathedral, quickly followed by Martha, who gazed around in astonishment. Whole families were camping inside, some of them hunkered around a warm fire, others were sleeping on makeshift beds, or were eating, or cooking, reading, or talking. The vast cavernous space was filled with human everyday life activity.

"There are like a thousand people in here."

Donna smiled. "Um, more like 6 thousand, 6781, counting you in." And gave her a small wink.

"And you saved all these people." Martha blurted with sincere admiration. "Look at them, they have survived because of you. I can understand now why Doctor asked you to become his companion."

Martha's reaction made Donna blush and feel uneasy. She didn't like to be portrayed as the big leader of the resistance, although most of the people who she had saved considered her as such. She had become, much like Martha, nothing less than a legend, her name whispered in hope to he far corners of the world where the last groups of surviving humans toiled and slaved away in labor camps, hoping that one day, she would liberate them from the Master's tyranny. Even those who worked closest to her didn't know any better than that she was this incredible woman with extraordinary courage and wit who had started it all by organizing the opposition against the Master, and so restoring hope to humanity.

Only Donna herself knew the truth.

"Well" She stammered, and realized that it was time that she came clear with Martha. "I didn't exactly do this alone."

"Well of course not. There are other people in the resistance who helped you out, but still."

"No that's not what I mean." Donna sighed, dreading the other companion's response for what she was about to reveal to her. "Come with me."

**32.**

She led Martha up to the bell tower, using a narrow spiral staircase that was hidden behind the altar. They climbed all the way to the upper level, where the great bells of the Notre Dame hung from the wooden skeleton of the cathedral. Donna beckoned Martha to follow her as she stepped across the beams. There, half hidden behind the landscape of heavy bells, chimes, and woodwork, was a large wooden plateau that was illuminated by a strange mix of light bulbs fed by bare wires dangling from the ceiling, and candles burning in groups placed on a large workbench that stood in the middle of the wooden island. The bench was littered with screws, coils of wire, and open circuit-boards, and there were drawings of mechanical designs on large translucent sheets of paper and indescribable calculations scribbled on the wooden top. At the back, crates with all kind of defunk electronic parts were stacked up high, next to a chair and a small table, with a plate containing a half eaten sandwich. It looked like a mad scientist's toy shop. Martha hesitantly stepped forward, the floorboards croaking loudly under her feet.

A Toclefane came out of the shadows, and flashed a pair of red luminous eyes at her. Martha was startled and uttered a scream, while Donna rolled her eyes in plain irritation.

"Christ." She grumbled. She stepped forward and to Martha's astonishment, swept the silver sphere out of the air and held it in front like it was a bag of groceries. "Right, you better have a good excuse for doing this." She spoke in a stern voice.

A man appeared, wearing a strange contraption on his face that resembled a pair of glasses with multiple microscope lenses fixed in a row. He responded to Donna with an indifferent shrug and a pleasant grin.

"You told me to mark them when I was finished. Thought I could fix them up with a pair of eyes. Doesn't it make them look cute." The Master teased.

"It makes them look like they have rabies." Donna responded.

"Yeah well." The Master snapped his fingers and the Toclefane flew out of Donna's hands and landed back on the workbench. ""At least I would have a friendly face to talk to once I've cut out a mouth. That would be a welcome change, even if it was foaming around the lips." He glanced at Martha who stood frozen on the spot, and barely dared to take so much as a breath in his presence.

"Ah, and look who came to visit? Isn't that Martha Jones who's currently doing a very bad impression of a third-rate mime artist? What's wrong girly, did my Toclefane rip out your tongue?"

Martha grabbed the first thing that she could reach on the benchtop that looked remotely sharp and pointed it at the Master, who looked back at her with some concern. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Get away from me you monster!" She shrieked, and waved her weapon in front of him, while backing up in the direction of Donna.

The Master followed her. "I'm serious. That's my last jackhammer. You mess that one up, and I have to get through the Toclefanes protection shield the old-fashioned way, with a bloody hammer and a chisel!"

"What did you do to her?" Martha glanced over at Donna, who observed the whole incidence with a somewhat helpless and confused expression on her face. "Did you hypnotize her? Is that why she helped you to trap me here? Speak!"

"The Master sighed, and tried to pry the jackhammer out of Martha's hand, who fought fiercely to keep it, believing that she was fighting for her own dear life. She swung the heavy handle at the Master's head and knocked the pair of goggles from his face. The fragile contraption broke in pieces on the floorboards. "Great." The Master croaked. "Took me ages to find those lenses. Oh you are one annoying little girl." He hissed and pushed her hands down before he struck her forehead against his own. Martha staggered back, the world was swirling before her eyes.

"Hey! Stop that!" Donna pushed the Master away from Martha. "Are you insane? She was just scared." She came to her support and took the drill away from her. "Don't fight him. He's not who you think he is. He's actually on our side."

"What?" Martha's vision had finally managed to regain focus again, but the whole experience had made her believed that she was going mad. "Donna, what's happening here? Why are you with the Master?"

"It's a long story." Donna sighed. She turned to the Master and spoke in her mind to him, arguing that it may be wise for him to leave Martha alone till she had calmed down a bit more. She was still traumatized of everything that had happened to her the last few months, and would need more time to come to terms with this new situation.

"You know." The Master spoke outloud and completely inconsiderate of Martha's delicate state. "It wouldn't hurt her to show a bit of gratitude. I didn't teleport all the way to backward Poland to save her miserable little life only to have her attempt to drill extra holes into my skull with a Black and Decker power drill."

Donna opened her mouth to shut him up, but changed her mind when she saw the look on his face. The Master picked up the pieces of his broken contraption and wandered off to the back of the attic, leaving her to deal with Martha.

**33.**

High above the continents, at the border of the stratosphere, the great airship Valiant drifted in the sky like a giant bird of prey. The Master was alone in the control room, standing on the bridge and looking outside the window. His mind was constantly occupied, while he listened to the constant drumming that whispered the idea of demons into his head. Beneath his feet, the earth kept turning, and the sun kept providing its warmth and light to the humans. He knew that somewhere down there, his enemies were busying themselves with devising schemes, planning plots, and contemplating treason to bring him down. These Earthlings, these weak and feeble minded biped monkeys, degenerative and egocentric and detestable, they all wanted him dead, for deep in the hearts of this cowardly race, they hated and feared him in equal measures. He knew because he had looked into each and every single one of them, and if it wasn't for the protection of the Archangel network, they would have all rebelled against him already. The thought of this brought a ghost of a smile on his face. Now he finally understood the words of one of the old ancient rules, Caligula, who regretted deeply that the whole of Rome did not have but one neck.

Maybe he should start his holy war with blasting the sun out of the sky.

The door slid open, and Lucy stalked into the room, treading on her toes like a frightened little mouse. The Master didn't turn around to acknowledge her. Lately, she was becoming more and more transparent and increasingly frail. It wouldn't surprise him that one day, he would strike her and she would just evaporate like thin smoke. She scuttled behind him, eyes wide and vacant, with a trace of fear that used to arouse him. Now it evoked only his anger, and made her seem even more useless.

"Harry." She whined. She was always whining, or pleading, or crying. It made his stomach turn. "Harry…love…please. Come in the dining room and eat something."

When he didn't respond, she braced herself and stood in front of the window, forcing him to look at her. "Harry, please. I'm worried about you."

He glanced at her, finally acknowledging her presence. It was all she longed for, and a small smile of gratitude broke through her otherwise saddened face. "I told them to make you your favorite." She tried.

The Master hand slipped up her spine, and seized her thin, birdlike neck. Her mind was like an open book, so very easy to read. Her memories flooded into him, the small open restaurant on the hillside of Capri where he had wined and dined her before their engagement. Him, enjoying a good pasta dish of oil and garlic and peppers. From all the important things that she should consider, she was recalling only this. The childlike qualities of Lucy never seized to amaze him. He let go of her, and pushed her aside.

"I'm not hungry. Now leave, I've got work to do."

Lucy trailed her fingers over the bruised skin on the back of her neck. It wasn't his fault, she told herself, she had such delicate skin. "You can't go on like this." She tried again. "It makes you ill. You don't even know if he was real or not. Maybe…maybe the Doctor played a trick on you, and it was all done with smoke and mirrors like that deception filter. It's not worth scarifying everything for."

"Everything." The Master muttered, and gazed into her eyes. "What everything?" He grabbed her by the neck again, but this time, he pressed down hard and pushed her back. "You mean everything we have together, as a couple? Is that it?" Lucy nodded at him with a glint of misplaced hope in her large begging eyes, but her loyalty to him was only rewarded by a cruel grin. "What we have my dear angelic fruitcake, is of no of importance to me. What you make of it is your own personal problem, so deal with it and stop moaning about it in my face." He shoved her out of the room. "I recommend you go see a shrink, if you can still find one alive that is. Or go sniff some more of that party powder. Should help you get rid of those silly problems, an ounce of the stuff should do the trick."

He stopped shouting at her when he noticed the officer in the hallway, who glanced at the pitiful crying and trembling Lucy before quickly averting his eyes to the floor.

The Master let go of his wife. "Piss off." He whispered to her, and then beckoned the officer to come inside, closing the door behind them.

"My Lord and Master, if this is inconvenient for you I could come back later."

"I was just talking to my lovely wife." He stared angrily at him. "A little domestic dispute. Nothing extraordinary. Besides, doesn't one in the three marriages end in fatal tragedy nowadays." He planted his fists on the windowpane, and leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Do you have a good reason for me to let you live to annoy me yet another day."

The officer turned the color of ashes. Although he knew from his predecessor that serving so close to Master considerably shortened your average lifespan, it was one thing to realize it before you got the job, and a complete other thing when you were actually confronted by the crazy alien who threatened to cut off your head if it failed to come up with the right things to say.

"It's the Trojans, sir." He stuttered, and prayed silently to a God whom he didn't actually believed in. "I think they're finally taking the bait."

The Master's eyes widened. "How many." He asked eagerly. "And where."

"Three are missing, since last night. Their signal was last located in the small town of Clamart, 2 km south of the Paris extinction zone."

"That's almost at the doorstep of unit 451." The Master laughed. "Oh, that is good news. Almost too good to be true. They'll figure out where they came from in no time at all." He swirled around on his heels, and clapped in his hands. The cruel mad grin on his master's face sent shivers down the young officer's spine. The Master pointed at him. "Officer Johnson, wasn't it? No, that's the last fellow. You are, don't tell me…Goodchild! Am I right? I'm sorry, I'm terrible bad with names, especially when I go through you guys like disposable paper towels." He beckoned him to come closer. "Officer Goodchild. Good name. Sounds good, easy for the ear. Now if you could come closer to this window, and place your head against it. Yes. That's it. Now tell me." He gazed in the young officer's eyes, and saw the deepest and darkest kind of fear that was imaginable, corrupting his soul. The Master smiled, and actually sensed what would be a genuine trace of compassion for the young man, for he too knew how it was, and how felt to be consumed by fear.

"Tell me now my good officer Goodchild. Can you hear it?"

"Hear what sir?"

"That sound." The Master whispered, and he closed his eyes and forced the noise of the drums to reside to grant him a moment of peace. One moment without that constant reminder of his own fear for the dark.

"Listen to it officer. It's the sound of a trap, slowly closing, and crushing the skull of our tiny little mouse who tried to escape."

_**TBC**_

Next time: The resistance is lured into a trap when the revived Master learns about unit 451. Will they be able to find out in time and escape capture?


	11. Chapter 11

**_Chapter 11_**

**34.**

Martha was helping out Donna with bringing another load of inactivated Toclefanes up to the Master's hideout in the attic of the cathedral, when she suddenly dropped the question that had been bugging her for days now. She knew it was sensitive matter, since she had once been victim to the same emotions herself, but she felt that she need to warn Donna, particularly because however much good she heard about the Master, it couldn't convince her that the man could be trusted.

Donna immediately halted, one foot resting on the next step. She turned her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, what did you say?" She asked, with agitation sounding through voice that indicated that she did hear her the first time.

Martha cleared her throat. "Um, I said, is there something between you and the Master."

Donna's eyes grew wide. "Hold on. What do you mean exactly?" She put the wooden crate with defunk Toclefanes on the staircase and put her hand in her side. "Why are you asking that?"

"It's just…It's obvious isn't it. The way you look at him, and keeps talking about him all the time… It's like me with the Doctor." She added, a little embarrassed.

"Martha, have you lost your marbles?!" Donna exclaimed.

"Oh come on Donna, I've been here for only a week and I've noticed it. You can't go on for 15 minutes without mentioning him at least once."

"Well, that's only because that spaceman is flippin' mad and an absolute pain in the arse! It's not because I fancy him in any sort of way! He's absolutely not my type!"

"Who's not your type?"

Both girls stopped bickering and stared up the staircase with faces that quickly turned into the color of ripe tomatoes. The Master stood at the top of the stairs with an amused look plastered on his smirking face.

Donna immediately tried to regain her composure. "No-one, Nobody, Nothing that concerns you." She rambled. "Martha and I were just chatting. Now if you could just make yourself useful and help us out with these instead of just standing there like a goalpost." She handed the crate over to him with an air of hostility.

The Master gave her a mock salute. "Yes madam! You know what you really need to worry about is what type of guy is going to consider you as his type. It's hard to find a man who can appreciate your wonderful bossy, pushy, and needy treats in your hostile and intimidating personality."

He returned Donna's angry stare with a teasing smile. "I recommend to go look for your prince charming in the local mental asylum. Should be a sure win." He gave her a wink and carried her stuff upstairs.

"Bloody lunatic." Donna commented, but could not suppress a sigh of relief when he was gone. She returned back to Martha who had been standing there like a statue at the Louvre ever since the Master popped his head around the corner.

"Not a word about this. Not ever." Donna turned and took a few steps up the stairs, than remembered something and turned back to Martha. "Oh, and don't even think about it when you're near him. He promised that he would stop nosing around in other people's minds, but it's not the first time that he proves to be a lying bastard."

Martha wanted to return a comment, but Donna shook her head and climbed up the stairs with a stern frown on her face. Martha waited sheepishly at the bottom of the staircase, but eventually followed Donna up the attic.

The wooden platform that was the Master's workshop looked even more like a chaotic garbage belt then it used to. Martha put her stack of crates in the corner and joined Donna who stood close to the workbench studying the metal sphere on the table. She would have pretended to be intrigued by a slice of burnt toast to be honest as long as she didn't have to risk facing the Master's ridicule. It was bad enough that she didn't know whether he had actually overheard them or not. The flush of embarrassment was still burning on her cheeks.

The Master grinned at her. If he knew something then he wasn't going to let it show, obviously.

"So, what do you think?" He nodded at the Toclefane on the table.

"What? It's just a Toclefane. One that was caught by the deactivation wires. What is so special about it?" To Donna, it didn't look any different from the hundreds that they had captured before.

The Master shook his head and mimicked the sound of an annoying buzzer from a game show. "Wrong answer. Besides if it's so ordinary, why do you keep staring at it as if it's the best thing you've seen since sliced bread?"

Donna's cheeks burnt so hot that even she realized that it would be impossible for him to not notice it. In a tricky situation like this, she had learned from many years of disastrous dating that being rude and obnoxious often distracted the opposite sex from closing in on her true emotions. It was bad enough that she had blokes in the past who rejected her with clumsy lines and went off bragging about it to their mates as soon as she turned the corner. She didn't need to experience this from a flippin space psychopath who had all the manners and good grace of a venomous adder. So Donna opened her mouth and prepared to shout something irrelevant but rude at him, when Martha came to her rescue.

"What's going on, why are you looking at this ordinary Toclefane?"

The Master clacked his tongue and rolling his eyes up. "Seriously, such eye for detail. Humanity traveled to the stars and I am stuck here with two females whose cavemen versions would have failed to invent the wheel." He leaned over the benchtop towards Martha. "Take a better look miss Jones, don't you think the shield armor is a bit too shiny?"

Martha took a closer look. Indeed the metal plates seemed more polished, and far less worn that the ones she had seen before. She frowned.

"It looks new."

The Master sighed of relief. "Thank you miss Jones for pointing out the obvious. It's new all right. It's so new that it's actually home grown from the last few months." He took a random Toclefane out of the wooden crates that girls had brought in and held it up to the light bulb dangling from the ceiling.

"According to the limited data that I have managed to extract form these critters, the Toclefanes were created on the planet Utopia by the last of survivors of humankind themselves in a desperate, but naïve attempt to preserve their species. They have already been around for thousands of years before Harold Saxon found a way to use the Tardis to bring them into our time line." He turned the globe slowly, and showed them the small patches of corrosion on the surface. "Metal does not wear fast in space due to the lack of oxygen, but on Utopia, there was a thin atmosphere left on the surface. The reaction took ages of course, and the damage to the inorganic part of the Toclefane was limited, but still, it's visible. The damage to the organic part, however, was more devastating."

Martha felt a cold shiver snake down her spine as she recalled what was hidden inside the spheres. The Master had showed it to her. Inside this murderous metallic monster was a sad, deteriorated head that hardly bore any resemblance to the face of a human being. It spoke with childlike naivety and reacted like a machine, devoid of even the tiniest spark of emotion that was associated to being human. The revelation that the lives of every person that she had known had been destroyed by the descendents of their own species had shocked her to the core and filled her heart with sadness. She could only dread what was hidden inside this new sphere.

The Master sensed her melancholy and unease. It would have been easy for him to exploit these emotions for his own benefit, but somehow, these long months traveling with Donna had altered his attitude towards the humans, and their suffering no longer left him cold. He gazed up at the two women with sincere sympathy in his eyes.

"If you don't want me to go on." He opted.

Donna shook her head. "Go on." She said with a soft voice. "Show us."

He took the laserscrewdriver from his pocket and ran over the welds that went across the surface of the sphere and divided it into 4 parts. Sparks ignited, illuminating the Master's face in an eery blue light.

The magnetic clamps that secured the sphere deactivated and the sides opened like pedals. Donna and Martha peered inside.

A decapitated head was clamped in a metal casing, but it wasn't the familiar, leather-skinned mummified skull of a future human, but the head of a young woman, barely in her thirties. They had cut off most of her hair, but a few blond locks were still plastered with sweat on her forehead. A light inside the mechanics suddenly switched on and the three of them found themselves staring into a pair of blinking blue eyes.

Martha took a step back, and pressed her hand on her mouth. "Oh my God. She's one of us…"

"Please…" The woman's voice was frail, and sounded frightened. "I can't see. I'm in the dark. Where am I? And why is it so cold?"

The Master leaned over to her while Donna watched and shook her head, but he waived his hand to her, gesturing that she didn't need to worry.

"It's okay. You're safe now with us." He spoke in tender, reassuring voice. "We're here to help. What happened?"

"I don't know, they took us from the barracks and shipped us away. We were kept in closed containers. When we arrived, there were so many people. Men and women, and children. Little girls like my own little Kimberly." A sense of panic took over her. "Kimberly! My daughter, where is she? Is she here too?"

"Yes." The Master lied. "She is also here. You don't need to worry."

A sad, ghostly smile appeared on the woman's cracked lips.

"Oh, thank God! I thought I lost her. I tried to keep her real close to me when we were herded like beasts inside that awful place. We heard horrible screams coming from the front, but there were so many of us, we at the back could not see what was happening. And we couldn't turn back. The doors were locked behind us. A man I knew from the labor camp lost his nerves and fled, but the metal balls came for him. It was horrible. People around me were panicking, and pushed me away from my daughter and forced me up the line. She called out to me, my little Kimberly, begging me not to let go, and I tried, I tried real heard. But her hand just slipped through my fingers, and then she was gone."

"It was not your fault." Donna comforted, with sadness in her voice.

"Everyone around me started to scream. Something wet and warm trickled down my neck. I looked up, and there at the ceiling above us were rows and rows of decapitated heads, human heads, dangling from clamps on huge conveyor belts. Their eyes were open and they were still alive. An empty metallic clamp came down at me and I screamed, I screamed and screamed and screamed…"

"No more of this." Donna whispered. "Please." She gazed up at the Master, her eyes begging him to stop. He complied and used his laserscrewdriver to switch off the power circuit. The woman's voice trailed on for a while, and she kept repeating her last sentence till her words slowed down and finally came to a halt. The burdened silence that the three of them were left with was deafening, and was only broken by sobs coming from the two women, when the Master gently closed the eyes of the unfortunate woman, leaving her to rest in her metal coffin for eternity.

**35.**

It was late in the evening after the gruesome discovery, when the three of them came together again in the attic of the Notre Dame. They were sitting around the workbench in silence, each waiting for the other to speak first. The Master was chewing down his ration that the girls had brought up. Although he was hungry, the spam with beans in tomato sauce tasted now of nothing, and he realized that he had lost his appetite when he stared at the beaten and sad look on Donna's face. He mashed with his fork the beans into a distasteful paste, then dropped his cutlery and leaned back in his chair, confused and very agitated that he should care about her feelings.

"What are you doing?"

Donna blinked her eyes and gaze up him. She had been miles away. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you so quiet? Hmm? What are you so upset about?" He pushed the chair backwards and jumped up, holding his hands to his side. Donna remained silence, and kept her eyes on his unfinished plate.

"Hey! I'm standing here, talking to you!" He snapped his fingers in front of her nose and Donna looked up angrily at him.

"So now what? You suddenly realize that I'm also responsible for this? You see me now for what I truly am, a homicidal tyrant who ripped apart that poor woman's family, probably have murdered her little Kimberly, and cut her head off to put it inside a metal casing?" He stalked around the room like a caged predator. "Is that it?"

"You were responsible for that." Donna spoke, her voice devoid of emotions but calm. "That's something you cannot change."

"Right!" The Master swept his hand over the table, and Martha jumped as the plate of food shattered on the floor. He paced angrily towards Donna and leaned over to her. "Does my presence disgust you now? Would you rather have me gone?"

Donna suddenly realized that the way he was acting had nothing to do with anger, but with guilt. "No. You don't disgust me. Not the way you are now." She answered, and that was the truth.

Some of the anxiety left from the Master's composure. He sat down quietly and nodded at Martha to apologize, for words like that could never part his lips. Donna picked up the shards and cleaned up mess. "I'll bring you another plate." She just said, and went downstairs. When she returned she placed a bowl of stew that was left after last the kitchen-service in front of him.

This time, the Master did finish his meal.

"So. I was trying to get more information about that place where they have processed her." He tried to sound as normal as possible, as if the previous incident didn't happen.

Martha winced at the choice of words - processed does sound like the poor woman was just some slap of meat - when it suddenly dawned on her. "When we arrived at the city the river was clogged with headless bodies floating in the water. If they were left from the Paris massacre they should have decomposed by now. Those bodies were fresh."

"And one of them is probably from that woman we've found." The Master added solemnly. "I reconnected parts of her energy circuit to extract the information that was imprinted into her for homing purposes. I didn't revive her." He reassured Donna. "It was just enough energy to stimulate specific parts of her brain to get my hands on the coordinates." He went through his pockets and produced a worn tourist map of the Paris subway system. He pointed at a black dot in a red metro line. "It's located at the Place de la Bastille, on the exact spot where La Bastille Saint-Antoine once stood. Saxon couldn't have selected a more symbolic place to construct his factory of annihilation."

"The people in the labor camps were talking about their friends and relatives being shipped off to experimentation camps in the west. Maybe they were actually talking about this." Martha opted.

"The river has been clogged up with bodies for months. There must be thousands of them." Donna muttered.

"Oh no, millions." The Master responded. "And millions more are to follow. From what we have seen so far, Saxon is spending most of his resources in developing and building new weapons, and now he's creating a brand new army of Toclefanes. That's not going to be used to secure his position here on earth, for what has an all-powerful ruler like him to fear of us, a couple of lonesome terrorists who offer minimal resistance. No, he's preparing himself for war."

"But against who?" Martha asked.

"Against the rest of the universe." Donna spoke in an icy voice.

The Master nodded. "That's right, a teddybear for the lady." He spoke softly. "When he starts, the planets in every nearby solar system will burn."

"He's mad." Martha whispered, taken aghast by the prospect.

" Well, crazy is what crazy does." He replied, and found himself strangely agitated by Martha's response. "Personally, I think madness is just an alternative state of mind. If it was everybody's heart's desire to destroy the universe, it would be just considered as normal as craving for a pot noodle after pulling an all-nighter."

Martha stared dumb-folded at him while Donna was finally triggered to respond.

"Except that never turned out into a global genocide."

"Yes, well, anyway, coming back to the point, I think this discovery might prove to be the turning-point in our battle. Something that we could use to our benefit to turn the tide around. According to her information database, she was mainly wired up to the new batch of Toclefanes created here on earth in recent times, although a weak communication line was kept between her and the future kind. It has something to do with her mindset, it didn't fit into the collective memory of the future humans. Now call it my gut feeling, but something tells me that all the new Toclefanes are programmed in the same way, which means that they can be controlled separately from the older flock if the weak communication line between those two was severed. I looked into her communication files and found roughly 2 billion unique ID codes with whom she shares her information. Can you imagine that? 2 billion Toclefanes of the new generation. It's enough to raise an army for ourselves to fight Saxon!" He paused. "Do you know what that means? No more scavenging for trapped Toclefanes, no more tedious conversions that more often fail than succeed, no more hiding like scared little mice in the attic. No more surviving, but open warfare with a realistic chance of victory." The Master's eyes glowed with a strange savage excitement. He glared at the white silent faces in the room, and cocked his head. "Now, doesn't that sounds like a plan that's actually worth dying for?"

"No. It's not what the Doctor wants." Martha replied, shaking her head.

"What?" The Master uttered, in disbelief.

"The Doctor would never approve of this. I know that the situation is bad, but this is not the way to defeat the Master. He didn't ask me to fight him by killing people."

"Well excuse me for being down to earth and practical. In case you forgot, I wouldn't want to kill off my future-self anymore than your precious Doctor does. But this, miss Jones, is the only solution. We can't keep on going like this forever. Sooner or later, my deception filters will fail us and then there will be no more time to think about what your saintly tutor would have liked you to do in order to safe humanity, for the last of your kind will be wiped from the face of this mud-ball planet before you can even call out for your Doctor. I say we give my plan a chance."

"But how are you going to do this?" Donna asked. "Do you have any idea how to get control over them without the Master noticing anything? That place must be heavily guarded. I'm not sending anyone of the us in there to die."

"Look I'll think of something. We'll send out our remaining Toclefanes as scouts to map the entire place from a distance to find the safest place to get in. The data in her files pointed out that the main control signals were emitted from that location. If I can just build a transmitter that hijacks the transmission for a short moment, I can recreate the wavelengths and gain control over them. And you don't need to send your precious humans inside." He added, scoffingly. "I don't need anyone to back me up. I'll use the teleporter."

"Oh, no!" Donna shook her head furiously. "You can't do this. You'll be risking your own life. Besides, the teleporter can only be used three times before it needs recharging. What if you get stuck?" _What if you get captured or killed_, she thought. _What, am I going to do without you?_

"I won't." The Master answered. There was a time when the anguish that showed in Donna's eyes would have evoked his mockery, but that was now in the past. Too much had happened since then, and he had allowed himself to be shaped and bended by her presence, like a young tree in the wind. "I promise. I won't get myself killed okay?" He spoke gently to her as her response softened his resolve, and much to his and Martha's surprise, Donna reacted by throwing her arms around him, and by holding on to him tightly.

**36.**

The plan was set after midnight when the dayshift was replaced. Thanks to the Master's scouts, the position of each security camera and alarm trigger had been carefully mapped out and fed into the database of the Toclefanes working for the Resistance. Energy scans of the building identified the exact location of the turbines that kept the gruesome machinery working, and wavelength scans had pointed out the hidden place where the transmitter was emitting en receiving its signals. The built-in echo-sonar equipment provided the rest that was needed for the operation; a detailed map of the facility that described each room and corridor in the correct scale. The Master used all of this information to design his strategy immaculately. He knew what was at risk if he were to fail.

It was a cloudless night that had followed a dreary, windswept day. Donna and Martha were following the Master, who stalked silently towards the huge hangar like building with towering furnaces through the bushes of weed that had went rampant over the place after the last citizens had disappeared. He wore the transporter as a belt around his waist, and the transmitter that should capture the emission signal was tucked inside his pocket. When he came close enough to the back entrance closest to the emission room, he halted his pace.

"Here it is, the closest spot to room 2134. I can only use the transporter to get into corridor 13a, two floors above. There is a wavelength scrambler installed in the wo lower floors, just to prevent someone like me from using the teleporter. I have to make my way down using the stairs."

He took out a device that very much resembled the teleporter, but was a size smaller and had a countdown panel fitted on the site, and handed it over to Donna.

"Remember, I have planned this entire thing for exactly 26 minutes. When I'm not back when the countdown is finished, activate the teleporter using this remote control. It only works when the signal is emitted from here, or it would be too weak to transport me out from inside that concrete building." He folded her fingers around the small black box and turned it around, showing a tiny lever at the back. "But in case of emergency, use this for you and Martha to get out of here. Turn this switch and the energy from my teleporter will be diverted into your remote. Put this button and you'll be both transported back to our headquarters in the Notre Dame. I'll already programmed your arrival point, so don't mess with the coordinates."

"But what about you. If I use this for me and Martha, you won't be able to get out yourself."

"Yeah." The Master replied. "I know. Don't worry. I'll get out of there."

"You're lying to me."

The Master let go of Donna and reached for the teleporter.

"I won't use this! Not if it means that I'm going to trade my life for yours! Wait!"

But the Master activated the device and vanished.

**37.**

The Master arrived in corridor 13a with a bouncy headache and a painful kink in the spine. It was always a rough journey with these things, compared to a Tardis it was like traveling in the storage cabin in economy while he should have flown first class. But this was not the time to complain about these matters. He checked his watch. There were 25 minutes and 45 seconds left. He'd better hurry. Relying on the map that he had learned by heart, he counted his steps, paced down the corridor and he halted when he counted his 40th step. Just around the corner was the staircase for maintenance work that would bring him down to the sub levels. Just around that same corner were also three security cameras mounted up in the ceiling and two sensors that spilled infrared beams across the hallway, ready to sound alarm as soon as he put one foot in the wrong place. He checked his watch again, 23 minutes and 30 seconds left. He closed his eyes and counted from 3 back to zero. Exactly at the mark of zero, the electricity circuit that supplied that tiny area of the vast complex with energy shut down, rendering the security devices useless. It allowed him to pass unnoticed, and he rushed towards the stairs. When he had only taken two steps down, the security systems switched back on again without sounding off the alarms. He descended the staircase and stopped at the next security point where he once again waited for the external interference of the power supply.

Everything was working according to plan.

The 12 Toclefanes, the last dozen from the original 30 that he had been able to successfully convert into the Resistance's allies, were hovering at a thousand feet above the facility, and were programmed to cut down the power to each specific section of the vast building that was part of his entry route. He could not let them switch the power off completely, for that would certainly attract the deadly attention of Saxon's men. But the precious seconds that his thoroughly thought through tactic stole from the security system meant that their intrusion might remain under his enemy's radar for long enough for him to reach the emission room. It also meant that there was no time for mistakes. His Toclefanes, although protected by the deception filter that tapped into the Archangel network itself, would not remain hidden for the Master's clever surveillance forever. Once they were detected and destroyed, his time would quickly run out.

His hearts raced, and sweat dripped down his brow.

He slipped in and out of corridors, and forced open doors with his laserscrewdriver. He kept running and stopping before each security check, while getting closer and closer to his goal.

Soon there were only 6 minutes and three security points left.

**38.**

Outside the building, hiding in the bushes of what was once the Place de la Bastille, Donna kept the remote close to her chest, and gazed at the facility as if she was still hoping to catch a glimpse of the Master. Martha let her be for a while till she noticed that Donna's hands were shaking. She put her hand on her shoulder. Donna blinked her eyes and gazed at her before she responded with an embarrassed little smile.

"I guess you were right about me and him after all."

Martha bit on her lips. For all the things that she would have said to her that ill-fated that day about how she should beware of falling in love with the Master, had now lost its significance and meaning. "He's going to be all right." She just said, in an attempt to offer comfort. "If there's someone left on Earth who can outsmart the Master, it should be him."

**39.**

He had finally reached the last checkpoint. The emission room was only a few yards away, behind a massive steel door that looked like the door of a bank vault. But he had prepared himself for that, and there was no lock in the world that his laserscrewdriver couldn't open. He closed his eyes, and counted from three back to zero for the last time.

Nothing happened. The two security cameras and the trigger system were still functional. He inhaled and breathed out deeply before he started to recount. But when he reached zero again, the security system was still switched on.

"Dammit!" He sneered through clenched teeth. There were only 2 minutes and 14 seconds left. The Toclefanes were 10 seconds late. He dreaded the worst. He can't stop here and just give up, not now when he was so close. He peered up at the cameras and security sensors, uttered a curse under his breath and blew up both devices with two well-aimed shots of his laser screwdriver. It took 14 seconds for the central alarms to go off, which was 14 seconds gained over when he had just stuck his head around the corner and let himself to be caught by the security cameras.

14 seconds of extra time for him to try to save the world.

The steel door proved to be of only small nuisance, and swung wide open after he unlocked it with his screwdriver, revealing a darkened space dominated by a massive aluminous core that towered towards the ceiling and vanished into a huge circular vent. As soon as he entered the room, the transmission hijacker in his pocket began to beep. He held it up and scanned the entire room, till he found the spot with the strongest signal. The little machine immediately tuned in and started diverting the emission, recalculating the wavelength that controlled the Toclefanes. "Please. Please. Please Please." The Master muttered under his breath while his eyes followed the little green bar that slowly filled up till it stagnated at 95. "Oh come on!" He screamed and tapped on the side of the device while precious seconds ticked away. The bar began to grow again, and finally reached 100 percent. "Yes!" He just reached out for his teleporter to make his exit, when a red laser light that came from across the room blasted it from his belt. It fell on the floor where a second beam hit it and incinerated into to dust in front of his eyes.

**41.**

"There is something wrong." Donna whispered. She couldn't hear the alarm bells going off inside the facility, but she didn't need to. The counter on the remote had turned zero, but there was no sign of the Master. With shaking hands she pressed the button under the display to activate the teleporter.

**42.**

He rushed back to the door but stopped half-way. A large flock of Toclefanes entered the room. In hope that some of them were new and would respond to his command, he aimed the transmitter at them. "I order you to stop!" He screamed. "Turn around and let me pass!" But the Toclefanes were not impressed. They surrounded him like a pack of hungry wolves and slowly but certainly closed him in.

"Funny." One of the Toclefanes commented. "The imposter tries to be our Master."

"He is not our Master." A second one said. "Our Master knows about his silly little plans."

"Now we caught him like a tiny little mouse in a trap, nibbling on its last crumb of cheese." A third one added.

"Get away from me, let me pass!" Realizing that transmitted was useless, he reached for his laser screwdriver and aimed it at the threatening, menacing spheres.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He fired and the energy in the laser screwdriver back-blasted into his hand and burnt his skin. He let out a scream and dropped the weapon.

"Told you so, you silly man. Our true Master had set up an protection shield that taps into your signals." One of the silver minions explained.

"Our Master is clever."

"Now let us prevent you from making the same stupid mistake again." And with that said, they destroyed his precious screwdriver with one single blast.

"No!" He stepped back in panic.

"No more games then. Your time is up. No more time for the traitor Timelord." The Toclefanes sing-songed in chorus, like little children.

"You've maimed and murdered the last one of us."

"Now it's time for us to maim you."

He bumped with his back against the wall. Realizing that he had failed and now must pay the price, he slowly sank through his knees. As the dark shadows closed in on him, he crawled down into a foetal position, defeated, and shielding his eyes from what he feared to be his imminent death.

Donna suddenly materialized in front of him and fired her stungun at the Toclefanes. Three of them were deactivated immediately and dropped down like plump ducks.

The Master was shocked. "Donna, what are you doing here?!"

"The remote didn't work, so I changed the coordinates to get in."

"You're mad woman! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"So far, it didn't happen yet." She shot another four of them out of the air.

"I didn't tell you to use the teleporter to get me out!"

"Look, you can't expect me to just leave you here to die, okay? Besides, I'm doing quite well I reckon." But as soon as she had finished her sentence, the Toclefanes activated an energy field around her. When she fired again, the gun only gave a sad little spark before it was blasted out of her hand.

"Oh bummer." Donna muttered, with an expression of disappointment on her face that would, under less burdened circumstances, look comical.

The Master pushed her out of the way of a canon of retaliatory laser-blasts, and she ended on the floor with him on top of her to shield off the rampaging metallic spheres. Soon they would descend upon them like a flock of deadly locusts, hungry for blood.

"You shouldn't have followed me." He said, but the look in his eyes contradicted him, showing genuine gratitude. He grabbed her hand that still held on to the remote. "I'm sorry Donna, but there is no way out. Not for the both of us at least."

She suddenly recalled how he had saved her from the bullets from the UNIT soldiers. He had saved her so many times before, in so many ways. Her eyes stung with tears as she realized what he was about to do.

"Goodbye, my faithful companion." He whispered to her, and closed her fingers on the remote.

"No!" Heart-broken, she finally found the courage to say that one thing to him that she had kept secret all this time.

"I lo-- " But before Donna could finish, the Master pressed her thumb on the button and sent her back to the safety of the Resistance headquarters.

For a moment, he stared silently at the spot where she had vanished, taken by surprise by her revelation, that quickly filled his already heavy heart with feelings of lost and regret. Above his head, harsh artificial lights switched on. It blinded him, and he squinted his eyes at the army of Toclefanes, who hovered over him like a thousand birds of prey, throwing threatening shadows over his existence.

"Look at the imposter, such a sad little man, and he thought he was so clever."

"No-one can out-smart our Master."

"Your companion left you, you're all on your own, no-one will safe you now."

This your final station, time to get off."

They exposed their rotating blades, ready to chop him into minced meat.

"Oh not quite." He muttered under his breath. Despite of his overwhelming fear, he found a spark of defiance left inside, which was just enough to help him to face his enemies with a dignity that he had come to admire in the humans. He stood up straight and raised his chin up. "I've got one thing left to say to you."

Instead of inducing a hostile reaction, the Toclefanes responded to his boldness with childlike curiosity. "Really? What would you like to tell us then?"

The door swung open and a large group of heavily armed men stormed into the room. They aimed their stunguns at the Toclefanes, determined to stop them from attacking their prey. Officer Goodchild stepped forward and aimed a regular gun at the Master.

"This is an order from your Lord and Master, don't harm the imposter. The orders are to capture him and bring him onboard of the Valliant. I repeat, don't harm this man."

The commander came towards him while the group of Toclefanes, ever obedient to the wishes of their Master even though it had been passed on by a weak little human, parted to let him through. Goodchild found his prisoner unharmed in the middle of the hostile circle, but the young officer was unpleasantly surprised. Although he had been well-informed by his Master about the target of this assignment and expected that the man he was about to arrest would bear a striking resemblance to his Lord, he didn't expect him to remain dead calm when facing capture, or smile back at him as if he had just overheard a good joke.

The young officer nervously waved his gun into his face. "What are you laughing about? Stop laughing!"

"Fine I'll stop, really." The Master raised his hands above his head and suppressed a little giggle that tickled his throat. "I surrender." He said, and forced himself to pull a straight face.

The commanded stepped back en ordered his men to cuff his hands behind his back. They were ready to drag him out, when the Master stopped complying.

"Wait."

The commander turned to him, now more agitated than he was nervous. "What now?" He barked.

"I still need to say something to them before we leave." The prisoner nodded at the Toclefanes. The commander rolled his eyes. "Make it quick, and don't anger them. These stunguns can only hold them back for so long."

The Master scraped his throat and faced them with a composure that was now completely devoid of any signs of fear. One of the Toclefanes flew up to him.

"What was it that you wanted to tell us, traitor?"

A broad smile appeared on the Master's face. "Take me to your leader." He said with a boyish grin, and let out the giggle that had pestered him for the last few minutes. "Oh I love saying that! Even when it does sound a bit stale and overused."

"That's enough! Come on you lunatic." The Commander's men pushed him towards the door, leaving behind a group of flying metallic orbs that had become very puzzled by the man's answer.

**43.**

In his vast office room on board of the Valliant, the Master circled around the prisoner who had been brought in by officer Goodchild. Slowly and cautiously, his eyes studied every detail of the man's face, his round cheeks and young laddish looks with that petty crook's charm, and his watch-full pinhead eyes that could pierce right through a man's soul, but now shimmered with hostility. Little dimples that appeared at the corner of his mouth when he responded to his captor's scrutiny with a cocky but joyless grin. It was like looking into a bloody mirror, only…not.

If the Master had been still inexperienced and young, he could have mistaken this double ganger for a parallel version of himself or even a clone, created by those pesky little human companions of the Doctor in a pathetic effort to rescue the other Timelord, to save the world, or to simple annoy the hell out of him. But the Master had already been through all of his regenerations, 13 lives lived and wasted on the pursuit of power, only with everyone of them passing him by at a frighteningly fast speed. But this wasn't a replica of himself, he knew that his look-alike was placed out of time the moment that he caught a glimpse of that face. Something was wrong with this version of him. He shouldn't be here really, and yet, he seemed to be fixed into this timeline, not in a comfortable way, but rather like a big smelly foot forced into an undersized shoe. Somewhere in the back of the Master's mind, there was a vague realization that everything that had happened between him and the 10th incarnation of the Doctor, must have once taken place without this complete mess that had been brought on by his other-self, but he wasn't allowed to grasp on to that notion for long enough to be conscious of it. It was just the way things worked. Once a timeline was altered, everything must be placed back into a new order. Even the train of thoughts of an ancient Timelord had to yield to that rule. So instead of turning his mind around the problem, the Master simple decided to ignore it and focus on the task at hand, which was to apply some serious ass-kicking to his traitorous and suicidal other-self, who had been, in his humble opinion, way off track of things. He stopped his repetitious stalking, and faced his advisory with a matching self-confident smile.

"So, I suppose this is when you tell me how the bloody hell you got here. When exactly are you from?"

"When do you think?"

The Master smiled and struck his other-self in the face.

"A bit of advise. You should answer my questions, before I get my men in to help you out with providing it to me. You probably know that patience isn't one of my virtues."

His prisoner scoffed at him. "Even I know that telling you isn't a good idea. What if you change things for the worst?"

The Master burst into laughter. "I have my paradox machine. Nothing what I do can affect my future. Because that's where you're from, isn't it?" The Master grabbed his look-alike's right hand, pulled up his sleeve and turned it, exposing a healed scar in the shape of an almost perfect circle. "See, I've got mine already, from when I tried to access the Tardis core to fuel the paradox stabilizer. Nothing makes a better lasting scar than a blast of pure time vortex energy." He let go of his hand, and smiled contently. "Now we have figured that out, why don't you fill in the details." He stepped closer to him, and hissed in his face.

"What year?"

Instead of feeling threatened, His prisoner smiled back at him as if he was about to tell him a good joke.

"2008."

"What? That can't be true!"

"I'm afraid it is." And he shrugged indifferently. "I'm sorry but I'm really from 2008. But if you want me to lie to you for comfort, I could tell you I'm from 8002, how about that? Better?"

"But how did you…how did I end up like..." He pulled a disgusted face. "What happened?" For the first time since this new regeneration, the Master found himself in shortage of words to express himself, although the overall feeling could have been described as a blind stinking panic. "Did my plan fail?"

"Oh, you mean the one where you wage war with the rest of known civilization in order to create your megalomanic empire?" The one you spend all your time, energy and limited mental health on to get it done? Hmm, let me see." The prisoner raised his chin up and furrowed his brows in a mock display of contemplation. "Nope, didn't hear a thing about it, wasn't even mentioned in the regional news. Guess it didn't work out and you were stopped for the good of Christmas and puppies."

"No! That's not possible!" The frantic despair displayed on the Master's face looked a bit pathetic in the future Timelord's eyes. Sure, he hadn't exactly look like he was a million bucks himself when he was scraping a living out of the bottom of garbage cans, and he had done his fair share of cowering too, but it was just an entirely different experience when you were looking the bastard straight in the face while he was shitting himself.

"It can't be!" The Master muttered, and yanked his hair, for the future Timelord a tell-tale sign that he was close to a mental breakdown. "Look at what I have achieved! Human race is enslaved and will be extinct by the end of the year. The weapons that I've built are so numerous that I can blast every fucking star out of the sky in this galaxy! How can I ever be defeated?"

"Sorry mate, I can't tell you that. I don't even know it myself." His alter ego stared back with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I told you, you wouldn't want to know."

The Master screamed out of rage and took his laserscrewdriver out. He grabbed his prisoner's hand, and held the screwdriver over the back. Soon the skin began to smoke and burn. "Why are you helping that red-haired woman? She sides with the Doctor! Don't you know that!? Have you forgotten who your enemies are?"

The prisoner cried out in agony. "I didn't – I didn't remember him." He tried to pull his hand away from the laserbeam, but he was paralyzed. A hole started to burn into the muscles and tendons.

"Stop this!"

"Why did you save her? You're helping her trying to destroy me, do you realize that! Are you nuts?! Not even a terminally depressed lemming would do this to himself."

He let go of his prisoner who dropped on his knees. The Master came down to his level and stared him in the face.

"Why did you try to kill me?" He asked, dropping his voice to a soft whisper.

"I didn't try to kill you." The prisoner responded. "I only tried to stop you. And if you need to ask for my motivation." He held up his ruined hand to him.

The Master smirked, a wolf's grin on a joyless face. He raised himself up and looked down at his ruined self with a mixture of pity and revulsion. "I can't kill you. You know that. Even with the paradox machine around, I can't take the risk. Perhaps, now that you have revealed some details of my future to me, I'll be fortunate enough to wake up tomorrow and find that you have disappeared, and that my future has changed for the better. Maybe it doesn't matter that I kill you because you won't be me anymore. That would be good. But I've never been much for wish-full thinking. Fortune have often refused to be my mistress. Better to have a plan B."

He produced a large black box from a safe mounted in the wall behind his desk, and carefully placed it on the table surface. The lid of the box moved, rising up ever so slightly, as if something inside was trying to get out.

"Ever since our short encounter when you took that fat redhead off my ship I've been racking my mind about what to do with you when you are captured. For I was sure that it wouldn't last. Don't take this wrong." He glanced at him and grinned. "I'm sure you're every bit as clever as I am. I'm not underestimating your intelligence, but with my army and total control over the human population, I've sort of got the high grounds in this game. But I have to admit that I was a tad disappointed. You fell for my trap so easily. I guess I could always count on my hunger for power to guide my actions. The prospect of a whole army of billions for you to control, was obviously too much for you to resist."

He lifted the lid from the box. A slimy tentacle stuck out, and waved in the air like a toe testing the temperature of the water.

"I got this from our arms dealer. A Medusian crackhead who thrives on cheap opium. We ship off containers full of poppy-seeds to Medusia, and he in return delivers the plasma guns for my army. Nice fellow, knows how to keep his clients happy. When I told him I wanted something reversible, but effective, he immediately knew what to look for."

He showed his prisoner what was inside the box. A squid-like creature stared at him with pinprick eyes. The muscles in his seemingly liquid body, contracted in a wave-like motion, and the creature changed from a grey-blue color into a pink fleshy tone.

"Do you know the story about the man who bore a striking resemblance to the king of France?" The Master asked, sounding suddenly chatty and overly friendly.

The prisoner remained silent, and stared at the grotesque creature inside the box with an unnerved expression on his face.

"No? You didn't? Well, I guess there is still a little time for a story." The Master squatted down beside him and rested his chin on his hand. "You see, once upon a time, there was this ruthless king who didn't give a fuck about his subjects. In fact, there was very little that he cared about because he knew the secret of the universe, which was that everything was going be fucked up eventually, and the only thing that made any sense was for him to enjoy himself as long as he could. Apres moi le deluge. Right? I couldn't agree more. Now, this wise king had this really annoying twin brother, who should have been exactly like him in every sense of the word, and should have cherished the same principles in not giving a bloody toss. But unfortunately, his brother had been brought up differently. He was not raised at the royal court amidst the splendor and the fun, but was brought to some backward farmer who kept pigs. Don't ask why, besides the reason doesn't matter. That pig-smelling farmer taught the boy everything that was useful to raise pigs, but also filled is mind with crap about how he should care about other people's lives, about how it did matter and that not everything was turning into pig-shit. So, the twin brother, being fed on a diet of weak, retarded nonsense, returned to court and became a problem for the king, for everybody who knew about it preferred his kind brother over the young upcoming tyrant. He couldn't kill his brother, for it was against the promise that he had made to his dear mother. But he couldn't let the guy go prancing around in the palace either, not if he valued his own crown. So, the young king did the only thing that was sensible. He ordered his craftsman to make him an iron mask, one that would fit over a prisoner's face and couldn't be taken off unless you opened the lock at the back with a special key. One night, when his twin brother was sleeping in his comfy palace bed, he ordered his guards to arrest him and to bring him down to the Bastille, where they fitted the mask over his face, secured it with the lock, and threw him in a bare cell. They gave the key to the king, who visited his condemned brother only once, to show him the key that he from that day on wore like an amulet, dangling from a sliver chain around his neck."

The Master paused at the end of his story, and gazed at his prisoner whose face had paled. "Now." He said, and took the creature out of the box. "I don't know about you, but I found that story quite inspiring, it sometimes dazzles me what wisdom can be learned from history's lessons."

The creature suddenly jumped at the prisoner, and landed flat over his face. The prisoner screamed as the slimy elastic flesh first covered his mouth and nose, preventing him to breathe. He collapsed with his back on the floor, clawing frantically at his face in an attempt to pull the creature off.

The Master watched how the tentacles dug into its victim's skin, and crept over his skull till it fused at the back of the head.

"Oh don't throw a fit now, it's not going to choke you to death." He commented lightheartedly. "It's just trying to make friends."

Holes in the creature's body opened up, first around the nostrils, enabling the prisoner to breathe again. Then the areas around the eyes opened, and he was able to stare around with reddened eyes, as the acids coming off the creature's slime burnt into his tear-ducts. Holes opened around his ears and he could hear the Master's cruel laughter cut through the silence like a sharp knife. When the skin that covered his mouth finally thinned and stretched, the Master popped the membrane with his finger, allowing his tormented prisoner to inhale a deep breath of air.

"There there, not too bad is it? Told you it wouldn't kill you. Might burn a little though. But you'll get use to it. Eventually."

The prisoner tried to speak, but a slimy substance slipped into his mouth and covered his tongue, pasting it into one place. Then he almost choked when a tentacle slithered down into his throat, and took hold of his vocal-cords. The Master grimaced. "Yeah, that's a bit uncomfortable I guess. But I can't let you go talking to everybody about us, can I? Al least I don't rip out your freakin tongue."

He took a glass of water from the table and pressed it against the tormented man's lips. "Here, take a sip. Makes you feel better." He watched how the prisoner took a good mouthful of water down, but was struggling to move his lips.

"It's done." He spoke, almost soothingly. "It's almost over. Look." He tapped on the creature's flesh that had hardened till it was as thick and robust like a tortoise shield. "It's starting to settle. If you wait a couple of hours longer, it will be as hard as concrete. You wouldn't be able to break it open without removing a part of your skull with it." The Master grinned. "So how about that hey? What do you think about my solution for our little problem?"

The prisoner spat a mouthful of water right into the Master's face.

"Guess gratitude isn't on my list of virtues either." He sneered, and wiped the wetness from his cheeks. "No problem. At least there is no need for me to feel sorry for myself now." He pressed the button of the intercom that was setup on his desk, and officer Goodchild appeared on screen. "I'm done with the prisoner. Take him away." He turned and threw a glance at his wretched self, then swirled back to the monitor, his anger slowly boiling inside his guts. "Take him somewhere dark, and dank. Somekind of a pit would be nice. No daylight. You know what, why not devoid him from any light all together. Tell his guards to keep him in total darkness, let him be blind and see how long it takes before the drums swell up inside his head and takes his sanity. Starve him, but don't let him starve to death. Torture him, but don't let him die of his injuries. Let him live like a pathetic, faceless, voiceless worm." He laughed madly when he realized what he was actually saying.

When the guards came in to take the prisoner away, he turned to his future self for the last time.

"I pray for you, that one day you'll finally see the light of reason, and pick the right side. If not, I can only tell you to wear that thing on your fuckin' face in that dark shithole I'm sending you, till you forget who the hell you are and start to actually love it."

"Don't resent me for this!" He shouted after him, as the guards dragged the broken man away. "Apres moi, le deluge. Mon frere!"

When they were gone, the Master stood back in front of the window, tapping his fingers on the window pane at the pace of the drums. It should have been a glorious day, he had finally captured the only other Timelord left in existence who could threaten his position, but he found no joy in his victory. The words of his future self still resounded in his ears, and although at the surface he seemed as if he had regained his calm and composure, the very knowledge that he would eventually fail again filled his hearts with fear. It had become such a hollow victory, as if he had only exchanged one problem with another, and his mind once again couldn't rest at ease.

The intercom switched back on, and officer Goodchild reappeared on screen.

"My Lord and Master. I report that the prisoner has been taken care off as you commanded."

"Well done officer Goodchild." The Master clapped his hands. "I'm very pleased. Now I might not even need a new first commander for the troops. I must say, I find the competence of you and your men quite refreshing."

"Thank you my Lord. It was only our duty to protect you from these scheming revolutionists."

"Could you call the men of unit 451 together outside on the flight-deck for me? I would like to address them personally, and congratulate them for their achievements."

"That would be a great honor my Lord. The men will be extremely pleased."

"Let them gather right underneath the traffic tower. I'll come out to meet them in half an hour or so."

When Goodchild was gone, the Master snapped his fingers and a Toclefane materialized into the room.

"Yes Master?" It enquired.

"I suppose that I've let you lot down with intercepting you from harming that traitor."

"Well Master, your wish is our command. But we were a bit disappointed indeed that we didn't get to play with him." The silver minion sulked.

"Let me make it up to you. A group of men will be waiting outside near the traffic tower in approximately 30 minutes, let them be my present for you, my dear children."

He didn't care what they did, as long as the men were dead by the end and took his secret with them to their graves. For from now on, he wouldn't allow anyone to know the true identity of the masked prisoner, and the man's very existence would be kept a secret at any costs.

The Master returned to his favorite spot in front of the window. Humming a popular popsong that he couldn't get out of his head. He looked out over his domain, the ravished blue orb that the human's called home, and found absolutely no joy in hearts.

**_TBC_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**44.**

The Doctor knew that something had changed. He sensed it. He felt it in his old bones, like the change of the weather, or the coming of a cold winter. The Master did his best to not let it show, and for the humans on board of the Valiant who either were his servants or his captives, nothing indeed had changed. But for the Doctor, who had lived and seen more than all of them combined, the signs were as clear as if they had been written in large black paint on the walls of his bare cell. Slowly, he bended his fingers, stiff and painful of arthritis, and wrapped them around the handles at the sides of his wheelchair. He pushed himself forward, not towards the barred view of the corridor, but to the back, where he could hear the pitiful cries of the prisoner who was kept in a cell, many levels beneath him. He placed his ear on a pipeline that disappeared in the floor and listened.

His hearts ached when he finally realized who the prisoner was.

"What is it, you old fart? Why don't you eat?" The guard inspected the dog bowl that the Master had given his arch nemesis to humiliate him even further. "I'm getting into trouble if you starve yourself. Now eat something." He grabbed a handful of what ever it was that filled the yellow doggy bowl and pushed it against the old man's lips. The Doctor turned his head, smearing the food all over his face.

"God, you're ungrateful! What, you want me to beg?" The guard was actually close to begging, he remembered very well what happened to the last bloke who got fired from this job after let the old geezer choke on a piece of stale bread. His head was still rotten away on a pike outside in the courtyard.

"You know what, screw you! You know there are prisoners down there who are actually not getting fed at all, and you're wasting food like it's nothing! You don't know how good our Lord and Master is actually treating you. You could have been that poor bastard down in sector 13. He's been starving to death. All skin and bones that one. At least you still got some flesh on your cheeks."

The Doctor raised his head and uttered a few words. The guard, who hoped that the old troublemaker had changed his mind and was going to comply, came closer to him.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. What did you say?"

"The prisoner." He had to stop, for the effort that it took him to raise his voice forced his lungs to become short of air. "The prisoner in sector 13. How is he?"

"Why would you care?" The guard scoffed. "Is he a friend of yours? I could have figured that out. Everybody who's just remotely in favor of you has been punished in the most appalling sort of way. But I must admit that he got the worst of them lot. It's like our Lord and Master really hates his guts! I've never seen him treat his prisoners in such a ruthless way before, and I have seen many disgusting things happen here, I can assure you that. What? Sorry can you repeat that again?"

"What did he do to him?"

"Pfff." The guard blew out his breath and tried to make a list. "What didn't he do? He whipped the poor bastard till his skin came off, broke his limbs on the rack, burnt and stabbed him…oh and he electrocuted him once, at one of our monthly God-save-our-Lord-and-Master celebration days, stuck the poor bastard inside a tub of water and just switched on the current. A couple of my mates were forced to watch and had to puke up their breakfast right on the spot. He looked like a piece of human shaped charcoal after it was done, really disgusting. None of us thought he would survive the next day, but the strange thing is, every time our Lord and Master gets his mean itch and order one of us to drag him out of that pit again, he looks like nothing has happened to him! I'm telling you, not the tiniest scar remains after each of those horrible episodes. It's so bizarre." The guard shook his head and stirred with his finger in the brown paste inside the bowl. "You know, me and my mates have this theory, that the prisoner down in that pit back in section 13 isn't really a person at all. Well at least not in the strictest sense of the word. We think he's some kind of an alien. One that can regenerate himself really fast, like one of those damn lizards who grow back their tails after you cut it off. That's probably one of the reasons why our Lord and Master keeps his face hidden from us with that weird mask thing. The guy must look hideous."

The guard paused and glanced over at the old prisoner in the wheelchair. "Hey gramps, what's wrong? Oh now don't cry! I didn't want to upset you. It's just a story. Stop that, I'm getting intro trouble if you cry, my Lord and Master won't like this."

The Doctor shook his head. Bitter tears dripped down his chin on the dirty fabric of his shirt. "Why is he doing this?" He whispered. "He has one chance to redeem himself, and he's destroying it without a second thought."

"What?" The guard furrowed his brow, he didn't catch a single word of the Doctor's lament, but he did thought of a way to make sure that he wasn't going to get into trouble with the old geezer not leaving his plate empty.

"You know what, if you're not going to tuck in, I don't mind adding a bit extra to my daily ration." And with that said, the guard dug his hand into the dogbowl and scooped a handful of the brown pulp into his mouth.

**45.**

It took the Doctor two weeks to get Tish and Francine smuggle in all the parts that he needed to finish his device. Both women were put to household chores by the Master, and were treated like lowly servants, moping up the mess he left behind (which was mainly other people's blood) and bringing him his drinks (coffee, coffee and more coffee, till he almost vibrated out of his chair due to the caffeine). The only good thing about this, was that like lowly servants, Francine and her daughter came and went in almost every part of the ship without raising suspicion, and were able to pick up the odd bolts and pieces that the Doctor needed, but couldn't get his hands on himself because he was heavily guarded. The two women were actually so sure about how they were hardly being noticed, that they even passed on their errands to the Doctor when the Master was in the room with them.

"Here you are. A piece of broken radio antenna." Tish handed it over to the aged Timelord, while quickly glancing over her shoulder. The Master was crooning a Beatle song at his ill-fated wife, who by now, was so stoned that she could hardly stand on her high heels. The Master himself had finished a whole casket of Burgundy from 1978, and was well on his way to la-la-land. It seemed that the most likely mess that Francine was going to mop up this evening, was his vomit. Tish turned back to Doctor.

"What are you actually going to do with these?" Tish asked hopefully.

The Doctor took the antenna in his trembling hand, and after checking over his shoulder to make sure that the Master was still occupied, took a small object out of his pocket, broke the antenna in two and fitted it on, before showing it to Tish.

"It's a small mechanical cricket." Tish muttered, hiding her disappointment. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she kinda had expected something more…well shall we say, more deadly?

"It's a communication device." The Doctor wheezed, straining his lungs with effort. "You did well."

"Yeah, I guess." Tish was still staring at the little wiry insect with a puzzled look on her face. "A laser cannon would have been nice though."

That evening, when the Master was done playing around with the Doctor, and felt that he had humiliated him enough by forcing his former arch nemesis to watch him serenade his wife with a murdered karaoke version of Elvis's love me tender, and had intimidated him enough with his eye-opening speech about how midgets were just really short people who couldn't win a football-match because their legs were too short, and after he had personally delivered the Doctor back to his cell and wished him good night with his usual mockery of how he looked like a cross between Gandalf and that talking old prune from the Muppet show, the Doctor took the little cricket out of his pocket, and activated it with a push of a button that was hidden underneath its belly.

The lights in the eyes of the mechanical creature switched on.

"Hello there." The Doctor whispered. "Listen, I need you to go help a friend of mine."

He held the cricket up, close to his lips, and whispered the assignment into its antenna.

"Understood?"

The creature nodded its mechanical head, and twitched with its antenna as if to say yes.

"Now, go. Go find my friend." The Doctor held his hand close to ground, and the bug jumped off and skittered across the floor. It went straight for the pipeline that sunk into the lower levels, and disappeared inside a crack in the concrete.

**46.**

Somewhere, deep in the belly of the great ship, many floors underneath the Doctor's cell, was a deep pit, covered by a rusted grill of heavy iron. Two guards we standing on top of it. They were supposedly on duty, but were too drunk of the wine that had been supplied by their Lord and Master to celebrate the 6th month of his rule to give a bloody toss.

"I bet I can hit him from up here. Hit him right on the head." The first one slurred.

"Tsss. You're not going to hit anything. Unless it's one of your own boots. You're awful. You really are." Laughed the second one.

Both of them were totally unaware of the tiny little mechanical creature that slipped between their feet and crept inside the pit. Actually, even if these two had been sober they would have missed it for they were not the brightest amongst Saxon's troops.

"I say, I can hit him, right on the head, without even using my bloody hands!" Yelled the first one.

"And I say, you can't hit shit." Hissed the second one, on which the first one responded by pulling his cock out of his pants, ready to take aim.

"Now if I can just get a glimpse of the little maggot." He slurred. "Ah, there he is! Bulls-eye!"

**47.**

The Master dived away from the hot stream of piss that rained down on him, and hid in a small niche carved out inside the pit. He heard one of the guards cursing loudly, yelling that he had made him piss all over his boots.

"I'm gonna get you, you little stinking maggot! Next time my Lord and Master get you up here, I'm gonna enjoy whipping your bare ass. You hear me?!"

_Why do they even bother_, he thought, closing his eyes to this nightmare for a second or so, while rocking his body back and forth continuously. Sometimes, when the guards were gone, he didn't even know if he was sleeping with his eyes open or closed, for it was so dark down here that it all seemed to make no difference. But they really didn't need to bother to humiliate him any further. He had been living like a beast. Being dragged up and tortured for their Lord and Master's pleasure, only to be tossed back like a sack of rotten potatoes into this stinking well after he was done with him. He had been lying here on the dirt covered floor many times before, resting his abused body on a bed of straw that smelled of urine and his own waste, with either his bones fractured or his skin opened and his flesh cut, and actually wishing that the bloody bastard wasn't such a coward and had him killed already. He couldn't take much more of this, and something inside him was soon going to crack. _If I still had a voice_, he thought, _at least I could scream. I would scream my lungs out, like that poor woman's head that we found inside that Toclefane. I would scream and scream and never stop again. Oh, how I wish I could still scream…_

He waited till the loud and obnoxious voices above him had faded away before he opened his eyes again. A little creature sat on the floor in front of him with its pinprick eyes alert and its antenna raised.

_What is this? _

It was too dark to see clearly. It looked like an insect, but the shield was too shiny, and its legs too wire-like to seem real. He crawled closer to it on his hands and knees, careful not to startle the creature, when the light that came from the torches above the pit burnt out. He sighed, and hoped fiercely that the sudden darkness didn't frighten away the little creature. Tentatively, he held out his hands to search the floor around him, but all he could find were handfuls of dirty wet straw. He sat back, pulling his knees tight against his belly and rubbed in his eyes. Maybe he didn't see the creature after all. Maybe he was finally going mad. He believed he was, because every night (or was it day? It didn't really matter down here), when he was left alone in the dark, he could hear the sound of drums rising like an upcoming storm. It was the same sound that he had heard when he was making his journey with the Valiant disk, when Donna encountered the younger version of himself, the little boy who was lost in the silver devastation, scared out of his wits. He had heard the drums inside the boy's head, and it had frightened him. Now it had returned, growing louder with each day, and went on and on for a longer period each time that it took over. The violence with which it overcame him made him want to smack his head against the wall and tear out his own brainstem, for it whispered to him in a thousands voices such gruesome thoughts and hideous ideas that it froze his soul and filled his hearts with dread, just by simply recalling them.

_That creature wasn't real._ He thought, and a dark hopelessness settled over him. He listened helplessly, as the dreadful sound slowly rose up from inside. _The drums, they're real. And that's all what's left with me here. The sound of drums. Slowly closing in. Tearing me apart. _

A light suddenly lit up from out of the darkness, it came from the little buglike creature that sat quietly in the corner, as if it was waiting to be found. The Master stared at it, amazed.

_You don't need to listen to the drums if you don't want to, Koshei._

_What?_ The Master thought. Now he believed he was truly mad, for didn't that weird bug-thing just spoke to him telepathically? And he called him what?

_Koshei. That's your name. Well it used to be, before you chose to take another, more pompous one. But I must say I rather prefer this one. _

The Master coughed loudly, partly because he had a nasty infection in his lungs, but also because he thought making some noise would drive the craziness away. It didn't.

_Oh shit, I'm talking to a bug._

_I'm not a bug. This is a telepathic communication device. Clever isn't it? Don't you recognize it?_

_Recognize what?_ The Master answered, staring at the brightly lit little bugger with a scared expression on his face.

_I gave one to you, for your birthday! Just before you went to your initiation ceremony. Don't you remember?_

_Stop saying that._

_Saying what?_

_Saying if I don't remember anything. The answer is I don't. I lost my sodden memory. That's how I got into this bloody mess in the first place. I should have stayed where I was, in 2008, as a stupid and miserable homeless bum who ate out of garbage bags. At least I wouldn't be talking to a stick insect that claims to be my best mate when I was younger. _

_So you do remember._

_Remember what?_

_That we were mates, friends, best buddies? We weren't blood brothers, we never went so far as to drink each-others blood. Can't stand the sight of it. _

The Master sighed. _Piss off and leave me alone. _

_Koshei, listen. I don't know what happened to you, but you've changed. I mean, it's bad of course. Bad that you have lost your memory from what happened before, but… you've really changed for the better. You're no longer the bloodthirsty psychopath you used to be. That's why he hates you so much, don't you see? You are better then him! Don't let him drive you mad. _

_Enough! I don't know you! Whoever you are, get out of my head. _

_You do remember me! You're just fighting it off. Don't do that. Don't be afraid of it. What happened in the past is now written in stone and cannot be changed, not even by a Timelord. But it can still change your future, for the better and the good._

_I don't want to listen to this. _The Master pressed his hands on his ears, and turned away from the tiny light, pressing his cheek against the filthy wall.

_Koshei, listen to me. Stop hiding. Koshei!_

**48.**

"Koshei, I know that you're in here, stop hiding!"

Harsh light erupted, blinding his eyes. Someone yanked hard on his ear and he was pulled out of the cupboard, and was on his feet before he could say "ough".

Master Azmael finally let go of the boy, only to point an angry finger at him. "You young man, are an absolute menace! Look what you have done!" He showed him the empty birdcage by the window. "My beautiful white griffin has escaped because of you! I told you boys not to open the cage to play with him. He's not domesticated yet!"

"I'm sorry sir, really." Koshei mumbled, what else could he do.

"Honestly, I have not expected such mischief from you Koshei. From that young rascal Theta perhaps, but you! You're my straight A student." Old master Azmael shook his head. "With all that good sensible wit that you have up there, how could you think of such a moronic plan!"

"Well Master." Koshei muttered. "You did tell us that white griffin feathers make excellent arrows."

"Yes, for the indigenous people of the planet Zultar, that is. Not for naughty little boys who are absolutely disrespectful for their master's properties!"

It wasn't so bad really, the old master made him write an 10000 words essay on the rarity of white griffins as a punishment, which was interesting enough as a task. The young boy happened to like griffins, or he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. The bad thing was, that he had to write it in one of the empty classrooms that faced the courtyard, where outside, Theta was making increasingly more ridiculous faces at old master Azmael when he wasn't looking, and forced Koshei to burst into laughter.

Master Azmael stared solemnly at him and shook his head in dismay. "What's so funny about this punishment, young man? Do you think this is a joke? You find causing grief to other people a laughable matter?"

"No sir." Koshei pulled a straight face, and looked away from stupid Theta, who didn't know when he should stop. When the master turned his back on him, he waved at the other boy, mouthing that he should get lost. However much he liked griffins, he didn't want to write about them till his arm dropped off out of exertion. But Theta was persistent. He gestured to Koshei, pointing at the window. Koshei responded by raising his middle finger at him. The other boy shook his head and grinned.

_Hey don't be so rude. I just want to rescue you before you die of boredom in there. _

_As far as I can remember, it was you who got me into this trouble in the first place._

_And that's why I'm getting you out! Now, get up and open the window._

_Are you nuts? He's gonna make me write an entire bookwork on Zultarian avian species if I catch me doing that._

_Trust me, he won't. Now get to that window, or he's flying off again. _

_Who's flying off?_

Theta rolled his eyes, and stuck out his tongue.

_The griffin of course, you dimwit. I found him sitting on the roof near our bedroom and lured it down with a piece of cheese on a string. He's gobbling it up right now. When he's finished, he's bound to take off again. _

_Shit._

Koshei jumped up and ran towards the window. He unlocked it and swung it wide open.

"Young master Koshei! What do you think you're doing!" Old master Azmael roared.

The bird, who was indeed not completely tamed, but nonetheless recognized his master's voice, lost interest in the piece of stinky cheese and flew through the window where he landed on the old master's desk with a very cheeky expression on his face.

"Snowbeard!" Azmael exclaimed, as much in delight as he was in surprise. "You came back!"

Needless to say that afterwards, young master Koshei didn't need to stay any longer to finish his piece on snowgriffins, and he ran outside straight into the courtyard where he met up with his mate, who was sitting under a tree waiting for him, and was already dreaming up their next disastrous adventure.

"Told you I was going to get you out." Theta grinned, chewing on a blade of grass. "Seems like a bloody shame if you have to stay inside when it's your birthday and all."

"Well, the day started good, before you came and mucked it up." Koshei responded.

"Tha! As if you didn't want those feathers for your arrows yourself." Theta scoffed. "I was merely complying to the wishes of the birthday boy. Didn't mean any trouble."

"You know, my mom was right. I shouldn't be hanging out with you. You're a bad influence. Soon I'll be taking mind-alterators when I'm in the fourth grade, because you told me it would help me with my math."

"You don't need any help with your math, you're brilliant at it."

"You suck at math."

"So I need those mind alterators. Look who's the bad influence now."

The boys burst out into laughter. Koshei lay down next to his friend, and watched how the cool mountain wind ruffling the red colored leaves above their heads.

"Happy birthday to you too, muckhead." Koshei said after a while, and took out a little box from his pockets. He didn't gift-wrap it or anything, but it was a present nonetheless. "Made it myself. Hope you like it, and don't go break it as soon as you get your clumsy fingers on it."

"Oh, how sweet! And I thought you would forget all about my birthday!"

"We were born the same day, how on Gallifrey can I forget it. Besides, you've moaning about it for weeks now."

"Great, I always wanted one of these." Theta held up the content of the little box like he was holding a short dagger. "What is it?"

"That, my friend. Is a sonic device that can use sound to alter the form of any physical object." Koshei explained with a proud little smile. "It also shoots out a kickass beam of blue light when push you this button." He demonstrated it, and a kickass blast of blue energy erupted from the object. "It doesn't do anything really, but it kinda looks cool."

"Neat. I always wanted one of these."

"You've already said that."

"Have you got a name for this?"

"Not really. Maybe I should think one up. Hmm. How about, the shape alteration device, nah too long. Or wait, the sonic shape shifter!"

"Why not call it the sonic screwdriver. It looks like one."

Koshei pulled a disgusted face.

"No! You're not going to call it that! You're bloody ruining it when you call it that!"

"I like that name. I came up with that name. What's wrong with that name?"

"It sounds like something you would find in the toolbox of a plumber."

"Well it's my present, so I get to pick the name."

"Fine, I'm just telling you it's horrible. It takes the coolness right out of it."

"Oh don't be such a fighead! It's lovely, thanks. I'm gonna keep it in my pockets and I am gonna cherish it for years to come. You never know when a sonic screwdriver comes in handy."

"Stop using that word. You're making me nauseous."

"Now it's my turn!" Theta exclaimed excitedly, and rummaged through his pockets and produced something that was covered in lint and whatever happened to be dwelling in the bottom of his pockets at that point. "Tadah! Neat isn't it?"

"Yeah, now let me carefully unwrap this well-crafted present first, before I burst into praise." Koshei picked the sticky threads of lint off the yet to be identified object. When he had finished excavating it, he wasn't sure that he didn't prefer it the way it was before.

"Well?" Theta said, his face radiant with pride.

"It's interesting."

"Yeah, I guess. Interesting and..?"

"Innovative??"

"You're supposed to say neat. Or cool. Actually a plain awesome would have been enough."

"I can't say it. It's staring right back at me with those beady little eyes."

"It's a cricket, it's supposed to have eyes! Geez!"

"Look mate, I don't want to sound rude, but what am I suppose to do with a cricket? Do I look like I collect insects? And if you want to give me one, why not just pick one up out of the lawn instead of going through all that trouble of making one out of scratch? I mean, what is actually cool about this? What is it going to do? Strike me with its awesome ability to eat grass? Seriously."

"It's a telepathic device. You know, so we can keep talking to each-other whenever you have that critter around instead of me. Look, perhaps it doesn't look like much, but I spent months of pocket money on the parts. And it took me hours to get the little clockwork inside to run, if you think robotics at that size is easy, well think again mate."

Theta crossed his arms and stared at Koshei with a very offended expression on his face, which was absolutely necessary in order to hide his crushing disappointment from his friend. Luckily, the boys have known each-other since they were five, and they could read each-others faces almost as well as they could read each-others minds.

"It's neat." Koshei stated, and faked a smile. ""I like it. Thank you."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Nah, of course not. Look, I'm sorry for dishing it. A telepathic communication device is actually very cool."

"You like it? Really?" Theta's face lit up again. "Then you should think up a name for it. I mean, it's your present."

Koshei pulled a face that stated that he really didn't want to bother if it wasn't to keep Theta's moronic but painfully hopeful smile plastered on his lips. "What about, the telepathic communication device. There, satisfied?"

"Eh, sounds a bit boring."

"Well, tough." Koshei snapped. "It's my present, I got to name it. You want to give your birthday present a horrible gay name, that's your problem. Fine. Don't mess with mine."

"All right, as long as you're happy with it." Theta grinned, waving his new sonic screwdriver around. "I know I am!"

**49.**

That night, the two boys were lying in their bunkbeds of their shared bedroom. The lights had gone hours ago, but neither of them could sleep.

"How do you think it's going to be like tomorrow, at the initiation ceremony?" Theta asked, while playing with his sonic screwdriver as he drew circles on the ceiling with the blue light.

"I don't know." Koshei turned on his side, and buried his nose in his soft pillow. The little cricket was sitting next to him on the nightstand, waving its antenna at him. When he thought about, it wasn't such a bad present after all.

"You remember Ushas?"

"That funny-looking girl with those pigs-tails. What about her?"

"Well, she kinda came out of her ceremony a bit weird didn't she?"

"Hmm. Now you mention it, she does spend a lot of time in the lab lately."

"Pfff, she ran straight out of the ceremony, put on a white coat and locked herself up inside the laboratory, you mean. Really, all she talks about nowadays is her science projects. And have you seen the stuff she's been growing inside those Petri dishes near the window? I came close to them by mistake last Tuesday and it went straight for my throat."

"Good science project." Koshei muttered admiringly. "It's going to be a hard one to beat."

"Hey!" Theta swung his head under the bed and stared at his friend. "Didn't you hear me? I said the girl was creepy!"

"I thought you fancied her?"

"Me, fancying Ushas? Seriously, have you replaced your brains with woodworms or something? I didn't even like her when she was normal and baked all those whole-wheat cookies for me, let alone now when she's busy growing God-knows-what kind of weed as a hobby. Besides, she doesn't even want to be called Ushas anymore, does she? We have to call her _the Rani _now, or she will throw a fuss. Girls! Seriously, if you ever catch me kissing one please do slap me in the face. They're weird!"

Theta lay back on his bed and started writing his best friend's name on the ceiling. "Look! It says Koshei." He was actually moving the sonic screwdriver so quickly that it spelled the first four letters correctly. "Well it sorta says Koshei. Kosh…That's good enough isn't?"

"How are you going to name yourself?"

"After the ceremony you mean?"

"Yeah."

Theta stretched himself lazily. "Something heroic probably. Like the White Knight. Or the Savior. Something like that."

"Oh do excuse me, but I feel a great tendency to barf."

"Hey! We're supposed to give ourselves ridiculous names. Otherwise Ushas wouldn't end up being _the Rani_. And you, what are you going to call yourself?"

"I would like something inspiring. You know what old master Azmael told me, about his ceremony? He said that it was inspiring. He looked into that chasm of the ceremonial mirror and came face to face with the time vortex, and he all he saw was creation."

"The creation of what?"

"Everything. Stars, planets, living beings. I would like to see that. I would like to witness that with my own eyes and return from my initiation, totally inspired."

"Tsss, you sound like you want to meddle with life itself. You know we can't do that. We're not allowed to, or old master Azmael is going to make us clean up the girls' toilets."

"Yeah yeah, I know, the first rule of the Timelords, never to interfere with what happens in the galaxies, yada yada yada, we're only here to watch. But doesn't that sometimes strike you as totally wrong? I mean, last week, we discussed the war between the Sontarans and the Rutans, all that bloodshed, all that death and destruction, and for what? Just because their leaders were bickering about something as foolish as what to name their communal moon. And for that same ridiculous reason, they're fighting across the universe, destroying planets, and blasting numerous moons out of the sky. And it's been raging on for like 50000 years or so. Now, wouldn't it be something when someone put a halt to it, right before all that fighting began? I mean, we have this power to change the universe for the better, right? We can alter the fates of millions, and we decide to just sit here on our arse all day and do nothing? Why give us the power to intervene in the first place, if we're not allowed to use that power? Doesn't it sound ironic in your ears?"

"So now what, you're going to call yourself the Great Meddler or something. Run away from the Academy, and become a renegade Timelord who's going to save the universe from all kind of baddies? Is that your plan?" Theta popped his head under the bed again. "If you are, you know your mom is going to kill you."

"Yeah, I know. I can hear her going on about it already." He started impersonating her in a high-pitched voice. "Oh the shame of it! Never has there been a member of the house of Oakdown who's become a disgraced runaway from the Academy! It must be that wild brat with limited upbringing, that Theta Sigma boy, who has corrupted my good son with these repulsive ideas. He must be punished for this! Quick, bring me a broomstick, and I will sweep his bottom till his cheeks are the color of ripe apples."

"Pervert." Theta laughed.

"Well, you'll be surprised how much she's actually like this. But I think I got my name ready for tomorrow. I may not runaway after the ceremony, and perhaps I have to obey the rules for a couple of years more or so before I can actually stand up for my ideas and change anything. But at least I got my name ready then."

"Oh right then. Tell me you dangerous outlaw, what are you going to call yourself?"

Koshei smiled at his friend. "I'm going to call myself the Master, as in the Master of all things."

Theta whistled. "Yeah, right, now it's my turn to barf."

"It's just that I need to be in control of everything, you know. If I want to better the universe, I need to be, I can't miss out on the details."

"You're sick, you know that mate. I've known you almost all my life and you've always been a total control freak, and now you want to turn that into your professional career? I'm serious, that's only going to end badly."

"If everything runs smoothly when I'm in charge, no one would ever have to suffer any hardship any more."

"Yeah, but before everything runs smoothly, those little details you were talking about would have already driven you around the bend. It's a bit over the top really. A bit far-fetched."

"We shall see." Koshei smiled confidently, and put his hands at the back of his head.

The two boys were silent for a while, each of them busy in their minds with imaging how they would turn out when they grew up. The possibilities were endless, and everything seemed so exciting, and wonderful in their eyes, that they could only wish they the time on the Academy could pass a little quicker. There was something however, that worried Theta a bit. He didn't know why exactly, but the way Ushas had turned out after the ceremony made him feel quite uneasy. He didn't want anything similar to happen to Koshei.

"Koshei, were you sleeping?"

"Yep."

"Can you take the cricket to your initiation ceremony tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Well you know, you're first, and I would like to know what to expect in case I goof up."

"But you're just an hour after me!"

"Look, I'm keeping your present in my pocket at the ceremony right? Can't you at least do the same for me? It's just a tiny little robot. No-one's gonna notice."

"Would asking for the reason why provide me with a satisfactory answer?"

Theta rubbed the back of his neck, and thought about it. "Ehmm, probably not."

Koshei rolled his eyes. "All right, if it makes you shut up and let me sleep."

"Thanks!" Theta said, sighing out of relief. "I'll stay in the dorm and open up a portal a minute or so after you go in. Promise that they won't notice a thing!"

_**TBC**_

Sorry for stopping in the middle of a flashback. Anyhow, please, supply comments or reviews to let me know what you think of the story sofar.


	13. Chapter 13

**50.**

_Why are you smiling Master? Do you remember something funny?_

They have been talking like this for hours now, the Doctor sharing his recollections with him through the little mechanical cricket, while the Master quietly listened. At first, the Master had been very reluctant to expose himself to this, being secretly afraid of the skeletons he might find hidden in the closet, but as the hours crept by and the memories of his childhood surfaced like sun-bleached seashells on the shoreline, he slowly realized that reminiscing it with the Doctor actually helped him. The drums stayed away, leaving him alone for the first time since he had been condemned to the pit. And to his surprise, a comfortable feeling of familiarity crept up during their conversation, and he was slowly beginning to feel he was actually talking to a dear friend, who had been lost to him for so many years.

The Master put his head back against the damp stone walls.

_I suddenly remember that time when you spend the midterm break at my parents' house. I guess that was the first and the last time that you met my mom. _

_Ah, lady Oakdown, yes…She was quite stern, certainly in that particular regeneration I remember her in._

The Master grinned. _She used to scare me out of my wits when I returned home each semester and found out that she had changed her entire appearance again, like she was just trying out a new outfit. For Odion's sake! We only have 13 regenerations and she went through them like it was her wardrobe. And she was such a faddish snob. Anything exciting that somebody-else did or had, had to be copied. Our house was more like the cash & carry for nicked-off historical junk instead of a stately country mansion. _

_Oh well…_The Doctor didn't want to say anything bad about the Master's mother, although lady Oakdown did frighten him immensely when he was a kid.

_She wasn't that bad. _

_No she wasn't…She was just a bit insane._

_It was nice of her to invite me over for the midterm break._

_I invited you, and I had to moan and sulk about it for months before she allowed it. _

_She was a lovely cook._ The Doctor realized not without panic that he was quickly running out of nice things to say about her.

_Yeah. And when you told her how your mom adapted all of her grandparents' ceremonies from earth, and that you used to celebrate something called Christmas around that time of the year, she couldn't resist to throw a dinner party with a Christmas theme to impress the neighbors. All she needed from you were some typical Earth recipes for some splendid dishes that our cook could prepare._

_Oh wait…now I know what you were smiling about…The Christmas roast... _

The Master chuckled, ignoring that it hurted his infected lungs. _What did you let her cook again? Let me see. _He counted it out on his fingers. _It was a Zultarian ostrich, stuffed with a decapitated black swan, obviously, or it wouldn't even fit! Stuffed with a Siberian goose…_

_Stuffed with a middle-sized turkey, well at least we got the turkey right…_The Doctor mused.

_Stuffed with a red bill duck, stuffed with a one week old chicken…Stuffed with a fat pigeon, stuffed with a whitecap quall…and finally, as a finishing touch, the quall was stuffed with a single black olive. And my mom was absolutely convinced that it was all done in the best possible taste. _

_Uhm, I didn't think that she would actually cook it._ The Doctor explained.

_That meat-mountain you've concocted took ages in the oven, and when it was finally brought in she couldn't lift it on the table without the help of our servants. And then, when she wanted to cut it, she actually broke her expensive sliver cutlery on it, because it was so sodden massive…_

The Doctor waited with his reply, for the Master was laughing so mirthfully that tears rolled down his cheeks. It was good to see him like that, even if the memory of that catastrophic dinner did make the Doctor feel a bit guilty. Still, he was just a kid.

_She has never quite forgiven me for that, has she?_ The Doctor asked a bit embarrassed.

_Nope. _

_No wonder she never said hi to me when she came to visit you in the Academy, even when I was in the dorm while she was there, she just pretended that she didn't see me. _

_Yeah… _The Master finally stopped laughing, and stared at the little dot of light in the darkness.

_Doctor, tell me, how on earth did we end up like this?_

The Doctor drew a deep breath, not certain how to answer him.

_We were friends Doctor. How did we end up trying to kill each? And me…_ He wiped the back of his hand against the much-hated mask, tracing the surface where his cheek should be. _How did I become something like that? _He wanted to say monster, but couldn't. _It all went terribly wrong, didn't it? _

The Doctor hesitated, but realized that he can't just leave this part of the Master's memory un-restored. He may risk everything with revealing it to him, but it was far too important to be kept hidden. The past was what had shaped them into who they were. If he could help him understand it better, than maybe, he would be able to save him.

_Master…Do you remember what happened at your initiation ceremony? I asked you for a favor. Can you recall that? I asked you…_

**51.**

"I asked you to take the cricket with you to the ceremony!" Theta grabbed the little mechanical bug from the nightstand and held it in front of Koshei's face accusingly. "What's it still doing here? You didn't want to sneak out without it, did you?"

Koshei was dressed up in his ceremonial gown, and was fighting to keep the ridiculous headwear from capsizing over his head while he tried to look dignified as he practiced walking around without tripping over his long cape. He didn't exactly have the time to argue with his friend.

"Theta, it's not like I don't want to, but do you see any pockets in this oversized tent I'm wearing? I can't put it anywhere! I'm sorry."

Theta checked the garment, but it seemed Koshei was right.

"Do you wear any underpants?" Theta asked while biting his nails.

"No! I'm not going to stuff your robot in my underpants!" Koshei said without a second of hesitation. "Look man, why can't you just leave it? I'm only gone for an hour or so, and then you can go in and see it for yourself. Honestly, I don't understand why you are so persistent about this."

"Well you promised, didn't you?" Theta ranted, more out of despair than genuine anger. "And it's not about that extra hour. It's just…" Theta paused and pushed his fingers inside his mouth, which was for Koshei a clear sign that his friend was turning into a nervous wreck. He practically jumped when someone outside knocked on the door.

"They're here." Theta sounded like he had just swallowed a mouse. "The elders are here."

"Yeah, Yeah." Koshei answered lightheartedly, but he was nervous too. He just did a better job in concealing it. He pulled his collar straight and turned to his friend. "Well, how do I look?"

"Like a gay Christmas tree." Theta commented.

"I know." Koshei responded, and dropped his arms down. "Well, at least you're going to look like a complete tosser too."

"Look, Koshei, I know that it sounds stupid, but I have this horrible feeling that something bad is going to happen. Could you please take the cricket with you?"

Koshei sighed and stared at his friend, who kept his fingers crossed and was muttering a string of pleads into his face.

"Oh my mom is so going to kill me for this." Rolling his eyes, he lifted up a fold of the gown and tore a tiny hole in the inside lining. Then he took the mechanical cricket from his friend and tucked it inside. "Let me state this clear, I want this mended before the end of this week. I don't care how you do it, but my mom is going to collect it next Saturday, and I don't want her to notice a thing. Understood?"

"Yeah, right! Thanks!" Theta gave Koshei a hug that lasted too long for the young novice to feel comfortable with, and he was actually relieved when the elders knocked again on the door.

"Right." He pushed Theta off with quite some effort. "I have to go now. See ya!"

Theta bit on his lower lip while he watched how his friend wobbled out of the room with all the grace of a large moving church bell. Under normal circumstances, he would have found it quite hilarious, but today, he could hardly keep himself from bursting out into tears.

Koshei turned around at the door. "Look." He said, in a last effort to reassure him. "I'll be all right. Don't worry. See you in an hour."

As soon as his friend left the room, Theta closed his eyes and searched for the signal coming from the little cricket hidden inside Koshei's ceremonial robe.

**52.**

A darkened chamber with a vaulted ceiling, supported by massive white marble pillars that seemed to disappear in the darkness above. The walls were lined by candles, and a blood-red carpet guided the eye towards a huge black mirror at the far end. The Master was standing in front of it, not as 12 year-old boy, but as a grown-up Timelord in his, oh what was it again? His second regeneration of his new life? What was happening here, had happened in reality, a lifetime ago. He noticed, that he wasn't dressed in the Timelord's traditional ceremonial robe as he should be, but wore the same old rags that his jailors had put him in, which could be as best described as a piece of rough cloth that closely resembled a potato sack with holes cut out for his head and limbs. He brushed over his face and noticed the harsh stubbles on his cheeks, and the bony structure underneath his skin that was layered with filth.

So he wasn't wearing that horrible mask, and it wasn't that difficult to figure out that there was something terribly wrong with this flashback he was experiencing. He looked around anxiously, trying to find another living soul in the room who he could address, but the place seemed to be deserted.

"Doctor?" He listened but there was no response. He licked his dry lips and tried again, louder this time. "Theta, are you here?"

"Yes, I'm here."

The Doctor, in his most recent incarnation - the one he had met onboard of the Valliant before his past-self had aged him so frighteningly - stepped out of the shadows behind him.

The Master sighed out of relief. "Where are we? Why do I look like this?"

"You're inside the ceremonial initiation chamber. It's here where they took you to see the time vortex. This is just a telepathic illusion shared between us, but nothing here is truly happening. However, I did change your appearance to that of your current self. I didn't want to expose you to it when you're just a little boy. Once was enough."

The Doctor retreated back into the shadows. The candles at the other side of the room suddenly burnt brighter, and revealed a group of elderly men, dressed in red and gold silk robes that indicated that had the rank of Cardinals, the founders of the Academy. One of them stepped towards the Master and gestured that he should come closer to the black mirror.

"Doctor, I'm not sure I want to remember this, even in my present regeneration." The Master muttered. He gazed at the Doctor with the fear clearly visible in his eyes, before he drew a deep breath and stepped forward.

The darkness inside the mirror slowly cleared, and showed the Master a reflection of himself as he was two years before, as the ruthless tyrant, the Lord and Master of the planet. Having suffered so much by his hands, the malignant smile on Harold Saxon's face alone was sufficient to paralyze him with fear, and the Master backed away, his breath caught while his hearts hammered inside his chest.

_Don't be afraid. Remember, everything you see here now is already in the past. You can't be affected by it. But learn from it. Learn to control your fear._

The reflection of his past-self distorted and vanished, only to be replaced by a large black gap, that seemed to grow in size with every second that passed. It was the legendary schism that provided the novices a fleeting view through the fabric of reality. The Master looked into it, and saw the time vortex, swirling dangerously like the powerful current of a river as it crossed through galaxies and dimensions.

_What did you see Koshei? Show me what you saw that day._

"I saw what master Azmael saw, which was the whole of creation." The Master was no longer inside the chamber standing in front of the mirror, but was lost in the time vortex itself, and saw every moment of creation that had happened in time unfold in front of his eyes. In vast clouds of stardust, particles combusted, merged together into larger particles, till a fierce light ignited inside each single one of them, and new stars were born. Drifting over this landscape of blinding starlight, gasses and rubble were caught in the gravity field of the new suns, and formed giant planets of breathtaking beauty or tiny spheres of rock, that glowed in the beginning like cinders in the fireplace, till they finally cooled down on the surface. In tide-pools on these countless new worlds, microscopic life was sparked into existence, creating the frail spiral of DNA that would be passed on from generation to generation in the glorious days to come.

"Oh Doctor…" The Master whispered, he closed his eyes, and smiled as his soul found peace. "If you could just see the things that I've seen. How could you not be inspired by it all."

There was a tiny disturbance in the vortex that remained undetected by most of the young novices who were brought in front of the great schism, but to the Master's critical eye, this tiny imperfection stuck out in that otherwise perfect moment like a sore thumb, and his eyes actually homed in on it almost by instinct, following that black spot that crawled and slithered through the vortex like a worm tunneling through an apple. It seemed that there was a tear in the vortex, a flaw in the design, a weak spot in the great current. Before the Elders could intervene, darkness entered, and like a man who looked over a ravine and stared right into the abyss, the abyss stared back into the Master.

The fabric of reality trembled, and the galaxies stretched and bulged, as if something large and monstrous was hammering on the door, forcing its way in. It followed the rhythm of the Timelord's double heartbeat, till the two sounds merged and became hardly distinct from each other. The Master felt the blood rise up into his head, and the pace of his heartbeat quicken. The time vortex was slowly corrupted with whatever came from the other side, which spread out like a burial shroud over the whole of existence. The colors of the vortex changed, from blue to crimson and back again, vibrating like the pulse of a sick man. All of this was reflected in the Master's eyes, and the images burned into his retina.

"Doctor…" The Master whispered. "Something has changed…oh something has changed for the worse…"

A voice came to the Master, a voice that was neither masculine nor feminine, but sounded as ancient as time itself.

"Child of Gallifrey." It commanded loudly, as if it was an army of thousand strong. "We summon you."

"Who are you? What are you doing inside my head?"

"We are Legion, for we are many, and we have existed before the beginning of time. Open your eyes Timelord and see…"

And the Master saw the end of the universe. The galaxies drifted apart, till they were only a scattered few across the darkness of space, too far away from each other to ever come in contact again. In the entire cosmos, stars were dying, with most of them suffering a lingering death as they shrunk into white dwarfs, while others ended as blazing supernovas. And as light and warmth disappeared from existence, so did life itself perish, withering away in the cold under a harsh starless sky, as the shadow of darkness that had come from the breach in the vortex fell over them, destroying everything. Eventually, there was nothing left but a cosmos of ravaging black holes, the burnt-out cinders of the stars, and the dead husks of planets, all drifting purposelessly in an ever expanding space.

Everything that was good, and warm and pleasant - the soft summer wind ruffling the red canopies of the silver birches in the vast forests of Gallifrey - the snow covered peaks of the high mountains - the river of silver starlight that spread across the night's sky – or the first rays of sunlight after months of winter-frost, had vanished…never to be experienced again. What was left was an eternity of emptiness, of darkness, and cold.

And the Master watched, and saw for the first time the flaw of creation, and understood, as he witnessed its decay, the futility of it all.

"There is no purpose to it. No point in anything …" The Master whispered.

"No! That's not true!" The Doctor interrupted his thoughts. "You must be stronger this time! Don't listen to it!"

The Master closed his eyes to the void, and forced himself to escape into another part of his memory. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing alone in a field of rubble in a London street that had been destroyed by Saxon's army. Most of the houses around him had collapsed, trapping many of its inhabitants inside. He cleared away the debris with his bare hands, removing bricks and pieces of smoldering wood determinedly, as if he was possessed by the devil himself. He found a pale woman's hand, and pulled her out of the small cavern of her ruined bedroom. Her eyes were still open, but her lips were cold and blue and she didn't breathe. He tried to revive her, pressing his mouth onto hers to fill her lungs with air, but it didn't work. He kept trying. Perhaps if he put more pressure on the chest…Perhaps if he caressed her face and called her name…

Donna found him, knelt down beside her in the rubble, still trying to revive her. She called out to him, but he didn't hear her.

"Master! You can stop now."

He shook his head. Tears dripped down his nose and fell on the woman's cheeks.

"Master…stop…she's dead. Please. Please let her go…"

He bowed his head, his hands suddenly felt clumsy and useless. Donna put her arms around his shoulder. He leaned heavily on her as he struggled to get up, for all of his strength seemed to have left him.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't save her." His voice was broken.

Donna took his hand. "It's okay." She whispered, and wiped the tears from his face. "You've tried…I don't blame you."

He was hardly able to glance at her, fearful to see her loathing for him in her eyes, but there was none of that. The only thing that was reflected in her eyes was his face that was filled with remorse.

"Promise me that you'll make this right again." Donna said, keeping herself brave.

"I promise." And he meant it. Even if it would cost him his own life, he would do anything to undo all of this to save her.

The Master was back in the initiation chamber. The Cardinals had disappeared and the candles lining the wall had burned out. Only the ceremonial mirror remained. It had darkened till it resembled the starless sky of the future. A manlike figure emerged from that darkness. His skin was black as if it was made out of shadows, and he was dressed like a warrior of by-gone times. He had no face, but in his hand, he held up a Greek theater mask made of white polished bone, and as he spoke, the bony lips moved and the features on the mask changed in expression.

The Master stepped back from the human-like creature. "Doctor!" He yelled. "Doctor! Where are you?"

"No use to cry for help." The warlord spoke with Legion's voice. "No-one can hear us here."

"What do you want from me?"

The warlord didn't respond, but raised his hand to summon a distant sound that slowly rose from the other side of the mirror, breaching the silence like the low rumble of thunder behind a mountain range. The Master's hearts froze. He knew that sound too well.

"You did this..." The Master muttered frightfully, pacing around in front of the mirror like a wild animal caught in a trap, as the realization slowly came to him. "You poisoned my mind with that sound. The drums that have haunted me in my every waking moment and tortured me in my sleep. And everything, everything that I've ever done to stop it…every dark thought that came up in my mind, every vile idea that I have acted out…"

"Was our command." Legion stated, and the smile spread wide across the mask, till it was hideous and horrific. "You were chosen. From that first moment that you looked into the Un-tempered schism as a novice, we became aware of you, and we have followed you into this realm." The features on the warlord's mask morphed and changed into that of Master's. "We exist in this realm because of you. We are one."

The Master averted his eyes from him and shook his head violently, unable to accept the hideous truth. "Why did you choose me? What have I done to deserve this?"

"You were selected, because you were strong." The Master's face melted away, skin and flesh peeling off till the bone-white of the skull appeared, and morphed back into the face of a Greek tragedy mask. A demented smile spread on the lips of bone. "And you were weak. You're such a glorious blend of contradictions, a man haunted by such ugly fears and divine dreams. How could we not have chosen you, Timelord?"

"But I have never wanted this. Not any of it!"

"You are one of our finest soldiers. In that you should take pride."

"I'm nothing but your slave!" He shouted in disgust and deep self-loathing. It was true, whatever he had achieved, however hard he had tried to do the drums' biddings in an effort to silence them, none of those sacrifices had ever been enough. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the hurt overtook him. The warlord had opened his mind and stripped away every last cover of forgetfulness, and exposed him to the bare, hideous truth.

"All those horrible crimes that I've committed, all that death and destruction…and for what…" He paused as the image of the pale dead woman amid the rubble appeared in front of his eyes. "I killed her." He whispered, and his hearts broke. "Without remorse, without even knowing...I killed Donna..."

"Your emotions are of no use to us." Legion responded without hate, or relish. "What is love but an illusion, a sick chemical reaction of interacting neurons triggered by pollutions of the blood. The Earth woman is of no importance to us."

"She is important to me!!" He shouted angrily.

The face on the mask laughed with a mouth lined with shark-like teeth.

"You cannot undo what you've done. Even you, Timelord, have to obey the rules of time." Legion spoke with dreadful flat resignation. "Soon the war will start, the war that you have prepared for us. The mighty of this realm will fall and the drums will rise. Listen to it soldier, he who claims to be the Master of all, and let it command you. Obey the drums, and fulfill your destiny. Open the portal for us to rise."

"No!" The Master attacked the warlord, his pain and anger shielding him from his fear for his true lord and master who had manipulated him like a puppet on a string and had corrupted his soul. But Legion raised his hand and swept him aside like he was nothing but an insect.

Legion's mouth opened grotesquely wide, like a snake that was bound to swallow its prey, and the Master could smell the stench of a thousand corpses decaying in the hot sun. He pulled the Master back up with an iron grip on his throat till his feet lifted from the floor. The drums swelled up till it rang maddeningly inside his head. He felt the fire in his lungs as his windpipe was slowly crushed.

"Don't you dare!" Legion hissed in a low and dangerous voice. "You had no strength to fight us in the past. You are mad to believe that you can fight us now."

The chamber darkened quickly before his eyes. From far away, a voice called out to him.

"Koshei! Please let me in! He needs help!"

Someone was banging on the door of the locked chamber. The lights of the candles suddenly ignited, and the flames threw restless shadows on the wall. The young novice was lying on his back on the floor with his hands clutching onto his throat. The Cardinals were standing around him, trying to calm the boy down. But Legion still had his paralyzing grip on him, and was pressing the air out of his chest.

"What's happening to him?" Azmael grabbed his student's legs and tried to keep them still. "It's like he's having a fit. Stop it boy! Whatever you've seen in that mirror, it's gone! Calm down before you hurt yourself!" He turned to the noise coming from outside. "Who's making all that racket?"

"I think it's one of the novices." Answered one of the elders. "It might be that Theta boy."

"Don't just stand there. Send him away! I don't want the young ones to see this."

The Master turned his head to the door and watched with hollow eyes how the elder opened it to send Theta away. He just got a glimpse of his face, which had turned frightfully pale, before he disappeared behind the Cardinal's back.

In reality, young Theta was send out into the courtyard and had not been able to save his friend. But what was happening here now was merely an illusion, created by the Doctor to help the Master restore his memories. So this time, the Doctor was able to free himself from the elder's grip and to rush back into the chamber. He couldn't see the monstrous warlord who was slowly crushing the life out of the Master, but he was aware of the great danger that he was in. The Doctor rushed over to Koshei, and pushing master Azmael aside, took the mechanical cricket out of the novice's ceremonial robe, and smashed it on the floor.

The telepathic transmission was immediately broken, and the Doctor awoke in his barren cell, his consciousness trapped, once again, inside his aged body. He stared at the darkness surrounding him, and slowly, he sank his head as he realized what he had put him through.

Many floors far below, in a cell that resembled a dark pit, the prisoner awoke from his nightmare. He crawled in a corner, and sat there for a long time, with his knees pulled up and pressing against his stomach, and wept while gently rocking himself.

Compared to this, the physical torture had been kinder.

**53.**

"Tell Jack we will do it tomorrow." The Doctor's words were just whispers, but Francine had learned from the long months on the Valliant to listen, and to listen well. She leaned towards the old man, and reached out through the bars to take his hand. She was glad with the news, for she had wanted it, Ever since the Master dropped bombs on Japan and had forced her family to stand on the bridge to watch she had resigned with the idea that they must risk their lives to stop him. Before that moment, she had been consumed by fear, but something had snapped inside her when she saw the images from the ravaged cities of Tokyo and Osaka on the screens. The mutilated sexless figures with neither skin nor hair left on their bodies, scorched black by the heat or radiation, crying and weeping as they staggered through the burning streets. The rivers clogged with deformed cadavers. And a small child, covered in a hideous patchwork of ashes and boils, kneeling down beside the shore, and drinking greedily with its cracked lips from the polluted water.

She couldn't forget. The memory of it haunted her, every day and every night, till she was convinced that the only way to stop it was for her to kill him. She couldn't imagine that the Doctor was contemplating a different fate for that evil monster.

"I'll tell Jack. But I thought we would wait till the countdown reached the 100 day limit."

The Doctor shook his head. "He can't wait any longer."

"Who do you mean?"

The Doctor averted his eyes from Francine, for he couldn't explain to her what had happened between the prisoner and him. He could sense how strong her hatred was towards the other Timelord, and realized that she wouldn't understand.

"Is there something wrong with Martha?" She asked, projecting the Doctor's worries onto her own, and her eyes widened. "Doctor, you must tell me if she is danger!"

"No, your daughter is safe." The Doctor reassured her. "She is strong Francine. You don't need to worry about her." He presented her the mechanical cricket that he kept hidden inside his tattered coat ever since it returned from its descend into the dark pit. He had tried to re-establish a telepathic link with the Master, but although the little robot had retained its function, the Timelord was no longer able to connect with the prisoner's mind. If was as if the incident had evoked a defensive reaction in the other Timelord, one that had created an impenetrable shield around his consciousness. The Doctor was worried that this had trapped him in state of mental isolation that could only end in madness. So for the sake of his friend, he must act swiftly.

He handed the cricket over to Francine. "Take it to Jack. It will tell him what he should do." He gazed up at the brave woman, whose heart carried the courage to endanger her own life in order to defy a tyrant, and had all her faith into the good Doctor.

"Tomorrow." He only whispered, and squeezed softly in her hand.

**54.**

The two guards who were assigned to keep an eye on him were not a clever lot, but it amazed Jack nonetheless that they hadn't noticed anything at all. The bolts that kept his chains secured to the two massive steel beams were more than a little loose, and he actually had to be careful not to put too much strain on them, or they just might drop out like rotten teeth from an old man's jaw.

Tish came in to feed him. He winked at her when she held three fingers against the tray for him to see, and watched the monitor that displayed the counter in the control room carefully.

"Hey, feeding time is over." One of the guards snapped when it was just one more minute before 15:00.

"He didn't finish it yet." Tish objected.

The guard knocked the tray out of her hands and gave a smug grin. "It's finished alright!" Then he took her by her arm and dragged her away from the captain. While Tish struggled to keep the guard occupied, the counter on the monitor finally reached 15:00. Jack pulled on the chains, and the bolts came loose from the pillars, setting him free. The guard who was left at his side immediately pulled his gun, but Jack was quicker. He kicked down the steam-hose that ran next to the pillar and turned it on the guard. The hot blast of steam burnt the man's face, and he dropped his weapon as he staggered back with his arms shielding his eyes. The guard that was escorting Tish let go of her and was rushing back to help him, but Jack had already picked up the other gun and aimed it him with a smug smile on his face.

"Drop it soldier. I may be smelly but I'm damn quicker than you are."

The guard moved his finger on the trigger. The captain fired and shot the man in both his kneecaps. He fell down on the floor next to his pal while screaming in agony.

"Told you so." Jack peered up at the metal beams that supported the ceiling. "So now what, doc? I can't even find the toilets in here, let alone your friend."

Two twitching antennas appeared behind a creak in the beams. The mechanical cricket came out of its hiding place, and scuttled down the metal to hop onto the good captain's shoulder.

_Turn left, and go down the staircase at your right._

The captain grinned. "So I'll be listening to a toy-bug to show me the way. Brilliant, and I thought this was going to be one dull day."

He confiscated the second gun from the guards and left his prison.

**55.**

"Why are you so quiet." The Master was lounging in his chair, smoking what he called "a spiced up cigar", which was a mixture of cannabis and prime Cuban tobacco. Being a Timelord, it didn't have much effect on him. If he actually wanted to reach the same level of intoxication that the earthlings experienced he must consume a ridiculous large amount of the stuff. But he did like the taste of it, and he enjoyed the effect it had on Lucy in the beginning. Although lately, his precious companion was so far off inside her head that she wouldn't even notice if he blew it right into her face all day, which he did.

He kicked the wheelchair. When there came no response, he kicked the Doctor's legs. He had at least expected a grimace, a bit of stiff upper-lip martyr-like suffering in which the pain would still show on the old prune's face, but nothing. Not even a sigh or a whimper. He sighed unhappily and put his head back against the comfortable leather cushions, blowing a circle of smoke into the room.

"I'm bored." He complained. He snapped his fingers. "By Gallifrey, I'm so fucking bored." Lucy came to him, scuttling like a mouse as always. Even dressed in the expensive clothes that he had given her she looked like a total mess. He didn't even want to look at her anymore. Perhaps it was time to select a new companion. One who could still entice him with her beauty and wit and didn't stalk around in his palace in the sky like a forlorn ghost that had risen from the grave. Lucy did what she had learned to do. She took the Master's coat off to fold it neatly on a chair before she retreated in the shadows. There she remained standing for most of the day, hardly breathing, barely alive, as she watched with lifeless eyes how the Master tortured one, and murdered the other, and took a seemingly endless chain of servants, female and male, into their bed as lovers.

The Master snapped his fingers again. A young girl with dark hair and almond shaped eyes came to him. "Tanya, my little raven dove." He whispered, and the girl's hands went automatically down on his shoulders, and gently but firmly, started to soothe his tensed muscles. The Master closed his eyes, and moaned. "Oh, that so good! I could kiss those little hands of yours. You know what, I'm going to take you to Katria Nova as a treat. There are whirlpools of gold there. Worthy of an emperor Timelord and his new companion."

He glanced at his wife, an amused smile on his lips. Somewhere deep inside the hollowed-out shell that once was Lucy Cole, the darling youngest of the Lord of Tarminster, an icy sharp hurt pierced through what was left of the woman's heart and killed her love for him. Still, she remained there standing in the shadows like a statue, the expression on her face unchanged. She didn't react when the alarm went off and a number of guards came rushing into the room. Her husband and lord jumped up from his chair.

"Condition red!" The guard barked.

"What the fuck is going?" The Master ascended the stairs up to bridge.

"Repeat to all units! Condition red!"

It was the moment that the Doctor had waited for. Francine, who had kept her head down until now, grabbed the Master's coat from the chair, and took out the laserscrewdriver. She threw it at Tish, who handed it over to the Doctor. He activated it and aimed it at the Master.

The Master turned around, and saw what the Doctor was holding in his hands.

"Oh I see." He muttered, and slowly put his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"I told you." The Doctor said. "I have one thing to say to you." He pushed the button on the laserscrewdriver, but it didn't fire.

The solemn expression on the Master's face disappeared and was replaced by a wide mocking grin. He leaned over to him while the Doctor continued to try to operate the screwdriver. "It's locked, you idiot. Isomorphic controls."

He slammed his fist on the Doctor's cheek, and closed his eyes to relish the crack of the old man's skull. The Doctor fell backward to floor, defeated and injured. He dropped the laserscrewdriver out of his trembling hands while the Master stood on the top of the stairs, laughing madly.

"It's DNA matched, which means that it only works for me! What do you hold me for? A bloody simpleton?"

A hand covered in sores and filth picked the laserscrewdriver from the ground and fired it at the Master who ducked away in time. The beam missed him by a hair but blew up the control panel next to him.

"What!? How did you do that?" He turned around again, his rage only tempered by his panic, and stared right into the eyes of the masked prisoner who had sent to hell. A ragged, emaciated figure, leaning heavily on Jack, but looked at him through the holes of the mask with fierce, maddened eyes full of determination.

The Master's breath caught in his chest.

"You?" His voice trembled, and disbelief followed by strong indignation washed over him. "You!? He repeated, pointing at the prisoner as if he was about to curse him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The prisoner answered by firing again, and this time, the Master wasn't quick enough. The beam collided with his right hand and burnt a hole in the back, causing the Master to cry out in agony. "You vindictive little rat! You traitor!" He sneered.

The prisoner didn't respond to his rage, but raised the weapon again.

"That's enough." The Doctor shouted as loud as his old lungs allowed him to, and crawled forward on his useless legs. "That's enough Koshei. It's over. He will surrender now."

The guards moved closer to the prisoner, but Jack held up his pair of guns and pointed it at them. "Back off guys. Even if the Doctor decides to be lenient towards this asshole it doesn't take away the fact that we're still aiming that thing at his head."

"What are you doing?" The Master looked at the prisoner, cold steel-blue eyes piercing at its red-rimmed counterparts. "You can't destroy me. You know that. Without me, you cannot exist."

"Don't listen to him Koshei." The Doctor tried. "We won't harm him."

"Speak for yourself Doctor." Francine whispered under her breath, staring at the Master with a deep loathing in her eyes. "That man is a murderer. He should be executed."

"I agree Doc. He's too dangerous to be left alive." Captain Jack commented vindictively. "Maybe your friend here should dispose of him right on the spot while he still can." He added, keeping a sharp eye on Saxon's men.

The fear on the Master's face vanished to be replaced by a knowing grin.

"We are NOT going to kill anyone! Stop saying that!" The Doctor urged.

"You're lying!" The Master hissed, and turned to prisoner. "He's lying, you fool! Can't you see that?! Open your bloody eyes!"

"I'm not lying to you, believe me. I know what is tormenting him, it's that thing that came out the Un-tempered schism. I've seen it now Koshei. I can help!"

The prisoner's hand trembled as his resolve crumbed. When Jack came to release him from his horrible prison he had been so determined to put an end to this tyranny that when he had his chance to fire at the Master he had actually aimed to kill. But the words of the Doctor brought doubt to his mind. The hostility of the human prisoners had also awakened his mistrust and had exposed him to his old fear of death. He no longer knew what he should do.

"They hate you, you know." The Master's voice was flat, and designated. "Go on, take a long hard look into their eyes, and find out for yourself. When they look at me, they see a monster, a murderer, a bloodthirsty tyrant." He slipped his hand underneath the collar of his shirt and retrieved a charm that hung from a silver necklace. "They won't see what the Doctor sees. They won't see you." He held up the charm, a purple piece of stone that resembled a curled-up tentacle. His grin widened. "Remember that story I told you, about the king's wretched brother? I wonder how they will look at you now, when they find out."

He closed his hand around the amulet. A light, blindingly bright, erupted from the object. When the Master opened his hand again, the amulet was reduced to dust. Almost immediately, the mask became alive, the hard shield that had coagulated on the prisoner's skin and had become as hard as bone returned to a fluid-like state, while the tentacles that had held his head locked in a suffocating embrace retreated, leaving an inflamed surface of skin. The creature slithered down the prisoner's neck, looking dazed. It then fixed its eyes on Francine, who stood nearby and looked very frightened. The Medusa didn't hesitate and leapt into the air for his new host, but before it could reach out with its tentacles, it was shot down by one of the guards who had lost its nerves by the very sight of the hideous creature.

The Master observed the responsible officer with contempt. "That's coming of your payroll." He snapped.

"What in the name of…" Jack stared at the face of the man who he had rescued from the pit. "Doctor, what's going on here?"

The prisoner struggled to get away from the captain, ashamed and fearful of the judging look in the man's eyes. Weakened by anguish and the physical torture he had endured, his legs gave and he fell down on his knees in front of the Master, who grinned triumphantly.

"It's him!" Yelled Francine. "It's the Master. Look at that face! It's a trap!"

"No." The Doctor spoke, but his voice had lost its strength. "It's not what you think. Please, leave him alone."

The Master, now no longer under the prisoner's threat, calmly descended the stairs, and halted in front of his past-self, who had covered face with his hands in a desperate attempt to hide it from the humans. He crouched down beside the whimpering, defeated wreck. The prisoner posed very little resistance when he took the screwdriver from him.

"Now." The Master rose up and fired at Jack, hitting him right in the chest and burning a hole into his lungs. The captain fell to the ground, as the guards closed in on him, and kicked away his guns. The Master then turned to Francine, who was still paralyzed by fear. "Say sorry." He commanded with glee, and fired a shot at her that only missed her by an inch, hitting the wall behind her.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry!" Francine shouted through her tears. Tish ran over to her and she shivered as she fell into her daughter's arms.

"Didn't you learn anything from the blessed saint Martha? Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do!" He signaled to his guards. "Take them away." He kicked at the still unconscious captain. "And drag this freak back into its cage. I will deal with them later."

He lifted the Doctor from the floor and put him back into his wheelchair. Then he crouched down beside him, and looked the old man into the eyes. "You're not going to win. Not this time, my old friend."

"When will you learn." The Doctor said softly, and a tear ran down his cheek as he glanced over the Master's shoulder at the miserable lonely figure huddled down on the floor. "It's not about winning. If you continue like this, we both lose, and your lost will be greater than mine."

"Wanne make a bet?" The Master laughed and sat on the edge of the table, facing him. "Let me remind you, there are still followers of yours, past and future, who are wandering the earth. Two frail human females, who should be at home studying her medical exam or sitting in front of the telly draining her wits with mindless soap-operas, but instead are now exposed to a life of hardship and danger, all because of you."

"What do you want?" The Doctor asked with a hopelessness in his voice.

The Master grinned. "Oh Doctor, I'm thinking of revenge. Sweet and full like a good blend of well-aged Whiskey. A short message for Martha Jones and Donna Noble, just to let them know that their boys are well."

_**TBC**_


	14. Chapter 14

Dear readers

I'm sorry, no new chapter today, I've been very busy at work and I also got somewhat distracted by the marvelous channel 4 drama the devil's Whore, featuring John Simm as Edward Sexby. Luckily, Christmas is coming up and I'll probably be able to make time to write! So I'm not abandoning this fic, I just need more time, and beg for your patience. Meanwhile, I've made a music video based on the drama, for those of you who are in the states: it's going to be broadcasted by HBO next year, and you really should watch it because it's bloody marvelous.

For the music vid go to my profile, and there you'll find the link

I hope this softens the blow.

Kind regards

H


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14**

**1.**

Three months had passed since that dark day that Donna escaped the ambush in unit 451. The Master's teleportation device had faithfully brought her back in the Resistance's headquarters with Martha, but without her beloved Timelord. With ample time to grief, she and Martha were forced to mobilize everyone to leave the island before they will be discovered by Saxon's army. Within hours of the Master's capture, the deception filter that had shielded them from Saxon's global security system was finally breached, and enemy forces soon emerged on the Resistance's radar screens like deadly swarms. At the breaking of dawn they had appeared at the horizon. The gleaming killer spheres descended from the sky and attacked the boats with refugees who desperately tried to escape the city center by the waterways. The humans fought back bravely with the weapons given to them by the Resistance, but they were heavily outnumbered, and soon the Seine stained dark with blood.

Donna and Martha were amongst the last to leave the doomed sanctuary. They fought their way out of the cathedral, and had to flee into the sewage systems underneath to escape the massacre. Cut off from the rest of the group, they had no idea how many of them had actually survived.

Desperate and without a better plan, they were forced to stay in the tunnels. At first it would just be for a couple of days to let the worst of it pass, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the small group of survivors found themselves sinking deeper and deeper into a state of apathy and fear, in which every possible action to further secure their lives seemed unimaginable. It didn't help that their leader was but a shadow of her old self. Donna hardly spoke to the others, and it was actually Martha who kept her head clear in these difficult times, and organized the men to go out to the surface to scavenge for rations in the abandoned houses at night. Donna participated, but as they searched hastily through the cupboards in musty kitchens that smelled of mildew and rotting wood, a little voice in the back of her mind kept reminding her that if the Master had still been with them, he would have ridiculed her that they lived like rats.

Finally, it was Martha who opted to Donna that they should go back to the cathedral and look for weapons and munitions left behind in the attic. The girls left after midnight, venturing back to the island while the others were still asleep. Saxon's army had set fire to the great cathedral at the day of the attack, and they found the ancient building in ruins, with the east wing of the great church entirely burnt down. The inner walls were blackened like the inside of a chimney, the roof had collapsed under the immense heat, and the marble pillars lay on their sides in a row with many of them broken in two. Amidst the rubble, blackened corpses, twisted in the agony during the moment of their deaths, stared back at them judgingly.

Donna turned her eyes away from them.

The west bell tower was still standing. They climbed the familiar staircase in silence. The wooden beams in the attic of the great cathedral were black, and resembled the tall shadows of trees in the wood, with only little oases of eerie light falling in from the gaps in the roof. The floorboards, dry and brittle, complained with each step that the two of them took to reach the platform in the middle. Donna breathed deeply, and let the soot tickle her throat and lungs. Shining her searchlight on the heaps of wreckage in the abandoned workshop, she was struck by a grief that she had forced to neglect for a long time.

Everywhere she looked, there were these things, these small objects that had remained. Now that he was gone, they reminded her cruelly of what she had lost.

She recognized a strange tool in the shape of a remote control that he had designed to aid him in reprogramming the Toclefanes. A pair of glasses with microscope lenses. A laptop converted into a hacking station to break into the Archangel network. Here they all were, still whole and untouched, covered by a thick layer of dust and soot, but still lying on their proper places on his workbench or on top of the stack of wooden crates in the corner, as if silently awaiting for his return.

Donna stopped and picked up a small device from a dusty crate. It was a thin, rectangular shaped box with a small television screen. She glided her fingers over the buttons almost lovingly.

"What have you got there?" Martha came up to her. "Can we use it to hack into Archangel?"

"Oh no." Donna shook her head, feeling a bit embarrassed that she was wasting any time on this. "No, it's just a portable device that shows pictures and short video clips."

"What sort of pictures?"

"Just ordinary stuff. You know. The London skyline. The riverbank on a misty day. A blue sky above the field on a hot summer's day. The Master gave it to me. I told him that I was afraid that I would stop remembering how the world used to look like… with all that had happened, all that death and destruction and so much of it gone, I thought that I would forget." She bowed her head, and a little smile dawned on her lips. "So he made me this silly little thing. Filled it up with pictures of Christmas and sunny skies. He said…he said that he didn't want me to forget about how good things used to be, because he still wants me to be able to live in that world once it was all over." She paused, and stared blankly into the darkness ahead of her.

"Are you all right?" Martha asked.

"Yeah. I'm all right. In a Timelord way of speaking." Donna answered.

"Why don't you take a rest and let me sort this out." Martha took her hand with the device and put it inside Donna's pocket. "And keep this."

Donna shook her head. "It's broken. Can't even switch it on anymore. It's useless."

Martha closed Donna fingers around it and stared her knowingly in the eyes. "It's of use to you. Trust me. You'll feel better if you keep it."

Donna finally nodded, and slipped the device back into her pocket. She gazed back at her. "Did you keep something from the Doctor?"

"Yes." Martha answered with a sad little smile. "I did. I kept his words in my mind and close to my heart. That's all I've got. But it's enough to keep me going. You should have something too. To keep faith."

Donna smiled, and knew that Martha was right. The present had become unbearable without the past. All that kept her going were her recollections of him, and she held on to them desperately, for she dreaded that one day, she would wake up in the miserable cold of the sewage tunnels and discover that she had forgotten the sound of his voice or the look of his face. To forget about the Master, _her Master_, would be like going through the grief of losing him all over again.

"Donna! Donna can you hear me?"

Donna closed her eyes. She knew that sometimes her mind would play cruel tricks on her, and she would hear him calling out to her as if he was just waiting around the corner of an abandoned street or behind the door in an empty hallway of a deserted house. She had learned to ignore it, and let the moment pass without causing her too much grief.

"Donna! Please. I need your help!"

"Donna!" It was Martha, pulling on the sleeve of her coat.

"I'm sorry." Donna opened her eyes again and shook her head. "I've been miles away. Do we need to go?"

"Sshh!" Martha put her finger on her lips. "Listen! Do you hear that?"

Donna held her breath. Pleads from her lost friend came to her from the small storage room at the back of the attic. She gazed back at Martha with a bewildered expression on her face. "You hear it too? So I'm not hallucinating?"

Martha shook her head. "It's there all right. You're not making it up."

"But…how?"

They entered the storage room. Martha swept with her torchlight over the stacks of boxes filled with electronics piled up in the corners and found a small monitor standing on a cluttered desk. It cast an eerie glow of light into the darkness. Donna picked it up and held it in front of her. The TV screen was only showing static snow, but a familiar voice called out to her through the background noise.

"Donna, can you hear me? I'm trying to reach you. Donna?"

"Master?!" She blurted out. Her heart washed over with joy and relief. "I'm here! I'm here, and I can hear you! God! You're still alive!"

"No!" Martha grabbed hold of the monitor. "Don't respond to that! It could be a trap!"

"But it is the Master! My Master! I know it's him!"

"How can you be so sure?" Martha snapped. "Think Donna! The future Master has been captured by Saxon and has no means to access the Archangel network!"

"But…maybe he has escaped! Maybe he's found a clever way to get into the control rooms to contact us!"

"Donna? Is that you? I can hear you. Is Martha still with you? Listen, I need your help. I found a way get out of my cell, but now…I'm trapped Donna. Please. Help me."

Donna shot Martha a look of determination, but Martha shook her head.

"If there's anybody left in the world who can still do this then it's certainly Harold Saxon. I'm sorry, but I can't just stand here and watch you fall for this." She snatched the monitor out of Donna's hands and smashed it on the floor. Three bolts of electricity sparked from the device, sending the girls backwards. Then the screen darkened and they were left with only silence.

Donna resolve finally broke. She turned away with her hand on her mouth and let the tears run free. Martha approached her carefully and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Donna. Please. I know how much you want it to be him. But if you think logically, you know that it can't. It can't be him."

Donna turned back to her, her face flushed as she jerked Martha's hand from her shoulder. "Don't! I know that I'm not as clever as you are! I know that I'm an emotional wreck and that there's only one chance in a million that I will ever see him again, but it's a chance that I'm willing to take. You have no right to take that from me!"

Martha averted her eyes to the floor and remained silent, not knowing what to say to her to soften her grief.

"Donna? Are you still there?"

Martha gazed back up at Donna, whose eyes drew wide. Quickly, she took out the portable device from her pocket. It had suddenly switched on and was showing static snow on the tiny screen. The Master's voice was calling out to her from the pinhole-like speakers on the side.

"Donna? Donna!"

"Yes! Yes! I'm here!" She yelled and turned away from Martha. "I'm here. I can hear you!"

"Oh no, don't do this!" Martha pleaded. But Donna kept the device firmly in her hands, and was determined to keep in contact with him this time.

"I'm still here." She spoke into the microphone. "I won't leave you."

The blizzard of static cleared to reveal the Master's face on the screen.

"Donna! Can you see me?"

Donna's breath caught for a moment. "Yes! Yes! I can!" She gazed happily at him. At first he didn't look any different from how she remembered him to be, but then, as she studied him more closely, she couldn't suppress the feeling that he had somehow changed. For didn't his eyes look a bit younger than they used to, and didn't they seem more bold? And didn't the stern angle of his mouth carry a touch of cruelty? She tore her gaze from the tiny screen and looked at Martha, who begged her in silence to make a better judgment.

"It's not him." Martha whispered. "Please listen to me."

An icy feeling crept inside her bones. Donna stared back at the man in the small screen, and realized with a pain in her heart, that Martha was right.

"You're not him." She stated, her voice dead. "You're Harold Saxon."

A wolf's grin appeared on the Timelord's face. "Little Red Ridinghood finally draws the right conclusion." He chuckled cruelly. "Oh come on then, tell me. What was it that gave it away? Did my ears look too pointy to you?"

"He can track us! Switch it off, now!" Martha yelled. Donna tried, but the buttons were useless.

"Oh it's too late for that I am afraid. I've already got your coordinates. Let me see. You're back in the abandoned hideout of the Resistance in what is left of the Notre Dame, in the west wing bell tower. Am I right?" He burst into laughter. "I can pinpoint your location with a deadly precision, so there's really no need for more mindless destruction, miss Jones." He raised a finger at Martha who had picked up a tool to smash the device. "I just want to have a little chat with you two. If you don't mind."

"What have you done to him?" Donna asked fearfully.

The smile swiftly disappeared from his face. "Nothing that I wouldn't do to myself if I ever fell victim to such insanity." He put his hands on top of the camera, steadying it so that he faced her directly. "Donna Noble, isn't it?" He sneered. "You are the one to blame for this. You've poisoned him. I've never seen myself so weak. Did you know he even tried to kill me?" He raised his voice in a sudden burst of anger. "Me! He tried to kill me! Doesn't that prove the sheer extend of your corruption? You have driven a man…no, not a man…a Timelord, a living God, into such madness that he wanted to kill his past-self. If it wasn't for the drums, he would have yielded to your madness. Luckily, I was able to punch some common sense into him." He turned the camera, and showed her the Master, who was kneeling down on the floor with his head down. Saxon walked over to him, and pulled his hair back to raise his head up to the camera. "And here he is! You're beloved Master. I'm happy to inform you that he's no longer infected by your sickness and lies. His head is clear now, with only the sound of drums to remind him of the only truth in existence."

Donna covered her mouth with her hand.

"Tell them what you've learned." Saxon petted his cheeks as if he was a dog. The Master stared at the camera with eyes filled with darkness and devoid of hope.

"I've learned…that this existence has no importance."

"And once a man realizes that, he finally wins his freedom." Saxon added and smiled at him lovingly like a forgiving father. He turned back to camera. "Oh don't look so sad now miss Noble! There's no need for me to treat him badly anymore. He's no longer siding with you and the Doctor. And since we're talking about the old nag, I bet miss Jones can't wait to see a glimpse of him. Wait, let me turn this thing around." He aimed the camera at the Doctor, who was sitting in his wheelchair in front of the defeated Master. "There he is! Hey gramps, say hello to your ex-companion." He picked up the Doctor's hand and waved it at the screen like a puppeteer moving his marionette. "You see, he's just like the day you left him in my care. Didn't even touch a patch of fluff on his bald and wrinkled little head. I swear!" Saxon smiled cheekily while crossing his fingers.

"However…" He rose slowly, and the smile disappeared from his face. "Instead of being grateful for letting him live to witness the magnificence and glory of my rule, he tried to assassinate me. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"I didn't want to kill you. I only want to stop you." The Doctor replied.

"Oh don't be so modest! Isn't that the same thing?" Saxon took his laserscrewdriver from his pockets, and studied it. "It's time that I showed you and your stunted little ape-friends a less merciful side of your Lord and Master." He beamed a smile at the Doctor.

"That's when you come to play." He shot a determined look at his future-self, and twisted the lasercrewdriver two times before he threw it at his feet.

"Pick it up." Saxon ordered.

The Master stared at it with hollow eyes, then looked up at the Doctor.

"I said, pick it up!"

"No!" Donna mumbled.

The Master obeyed.

"Now, execute him."

"No! You can't force him to do that!" Donna screamed at the tiny screen.

The grin on Saxon's lips widened. "Remember. Remember who you are. You don't have a choice. You never had."

His prisoner aimed the weapon at the Doctor, who stared back at him calmly. "I forgive you." He whispered, and closed his eyes.

"Master! Don't!" Donna yelled.

The Master fired. The beam hit the Doctor in the chest, sending him down on the floor while convulsing in agony. It should be over in seconds, but it wasn't. The pain lasted longer and longer, and Doctor felt how the fluid in every cell of his body evaporated, and how his muscles contracted violently. His spine crew crooked, and the flesh around his skeleton shrunk till it was only a thin parchment-like layer covering bone.

"You don't think I'll let it be over so easy for you. Now do you Doctor?" Saxon crossed his arms as he watched how he suffered. "900 years of a life on the run. Let its true burden show on you, with a little help of the genius of late professor Lazarus." He turned to his future-self, who held the weapon in one hand that trembled ever so slightly. "Don't." Saxon hissed. "Keep firing." He took hold of the prisoner's hand and steadied his aim. "There you go. And older and older and older…"

Martha watched in horror. For the sake of herself, she should have turned away from the screen, but she needed to know. She needed to see for herself that the Doctor would survive.

"Down you go Doctor. Down, down, down you go."

The Doctor's body started to shrink. His twisting limbs disappeared inside his clothes. His cries became muffled, than stopped. Saxon let go and the prisoner was finally allowed to lower the weapon. As soon as Saxon took the laserscrewdriver out of his hand, he collapsed as if only the weight of the tiny device had kept him standing, and stared guiltily at the pile of clothes left behind by the Doctor. Saxon stepped forwards and bent down to take a look. A large head peeked warily through the neckline of the shirt. The Doctor, now reduced to a small emaciated, ancient creature with a stunted, infant-like form, blinked and cast his huge eyes up at him.

Saxon couldn't repress a sigh of relief, and stepped up to the camera.

"Ladies." He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. "There's nothing more to be said really." And smiling, he looked at his watch. "You've got exactly three minutes before the Toclefanes descend. May I advise you to make good use of it." And with that said, he switched off the camera, ending the transmission.

**2.**

_6 months later_

At the stormy coast on one of the rocky beaches near Dover, under the dark cover of night, two wooden boots came to shore. One of them had disembarked from an old cargo-ship that had just arrived after a long journey from the east coast of Africa, while the other had left the mainland of Europe from France. Two women set foot on the English soil. They thanked their helpers, men of the Resistance, who had risked their own lives to bring them back home. As one of them gazed around at the surrounding beach, her eyes caught sight of the red-haired woman standing in the breakers as she helped the others to push their boat back into the sea. She rushed over to her, while a genuine smile spread broadly over her face.

Donna and Martha hugged each-other, cheerful and relieved to find that they had both survived these long dark months.

"How many did you reach?" Martha asked, while they crossed the beach to reach the truck that was waiting for them at the other side.

"Thousands, if not more. But it still feels like it's not enough." Donna sighed.

"We don't always need to tell it ourselves for it to work. The message will spread. Hope always does."

"I hope you're right." Donna gazed at the figure standing next to the truck. A scruffy looking young man was waiting for them with his hands tucked deep inside his pockets, and the collar of his coat pulled up high to shield him against the vindictive wind. "What about this bloke? Can we really trust him?"

Martha gave Donna a knowing look. "We've checked him thoroughly before we gave him this assignment. He's clean, but he doesn't know about professor Docherty, so don't mention any of it to him."

Donna nodded. "Do you still carry the gun?"

"It's in my backpack. There was a man in Singapore who used to make old-fashioned handmade toys. He added a few bits and pieces to it. It actually looks impressive now." Martha said, and smiled before she walked up to the young man.

"So what's your name then?"

"Tom Milligan. No need to ask who you are. The famous Martha Jones and Donna Noble. How long has it been since you were last in Britain?"

"365 days." Martha answered. "It's been a long year."

"And you?" Tom smiled and looked at Donna.

"Just…too long." She answered truthfully.

**3.**

He had trouble concentrating. He always had when he tried it on humans. He knew that it shouldn't be like this. He should be able to penetrate their minds and initiate any kind of thought that he would like with a snap of the finger without a single drop of sweat landing on his brow. But somehow his capacity of controlling the human mind had dwindled. It wasn't gone, but he just had to try extra hard to make it work. It didn't dawn on him that his lack of success might have something to do with his own reluctance to harm his human subjects.

The old man lying in front of him was secured to the operation table with metal cuffs. His head was inside a metal cage, with wires attached to his clean-shaven skull. The old man's eyes, clouded with cataracts, stared back at him in fear. It reminded him of what he himself was forced to endure in the Unit bunker before Donna came to rescue him.

"Please sir. I don't know you. I've never done you any wrong." The man pleaded in small voice. "I've never done anything bad to anyone. I swear to God."

"That's not the point." He wished that the old man would just stop talking to him. "Actually, there is no point. Not in any of this."

"But why sir? Why are you doing this? I've children and grandchildren!"

"Would you just stop talking to me? I'm trying to concentrate!"

"I have a wife. I don't want to go and leave them on their own. Not now. Not like this."

The Master turned away with his hands covering his eyes to block out the headache that started to rise. "I can't do this. I just can't."

"Then let me go!" The old man cried out. "Please sir, I want to see my family again!"

The Master mumbled something inaudible in return, and paced hastily through his laboratory in search of his medical tools. When he found what he was looking for he came back to the table. In his hand he held up a glass syringe filled with a liquid tranquilizer. "I meant that I cannot do this without shutting you up!" He grabbed the old man's arm and started looking for a vein.

A sliver sphere materialized in the middle of room and flew towards the operation table where the Master was struggling to keep the arm of the old man still.

"What are you doing? That's not what our Lord and Master ordered!" The Toclefane exclaimed with a childlike indignation. The Master let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. He turned back to his human subject.

"Hold still." He ordered and stuck the needle in a spot where he thought the vein ran close to the surface of the skin. The old man cried pitifully as he stuck the needle inside the sensitive muscle tissue. The Master immediately removed it again before any of the tranquilizer could be injected. "I told you to hold still." With a guilty expression on his face, he dropped the syringe in a tray.

The Toclefane spun in front of him.

"Why did you try to sedate him?" It inquired in a stern voice.

"He's distracting me from my work. What do you think?"

"You shouldn't sedate your subjects. The humans will be conscious on the day when our Lord and Master rises."

"Yes well, you know how it goes. You don't build space-rockets without testing them first with experimentation models made of Chinese crackers and toilet rolls."

"We want you to test the device on humans who are fully awake."

"And I want the Earth's moon wrapped up in giftpaper and tied with a red gay bow. But nobody is going to give me that." The Master answered with a sarcastic grin.

"Our Lord and Master demands it."

The Master shook his head and gazed at the man lying on the table, whose wrinkled face was now covered by tears. He was tired of seeing so much human grief and fear. He wished it all to be over.

"Tell your master that he shall have what he demands." He spoke to the Toclefane without looking at it. "The machine will be ready on time."

He turned back to the old man. "Tell me.' He said in a soft voice. "If I would set you free. Where would you go?"

"I don't understand sir. Are you really letting me go?" Hope dawned in the old man's eyes.

The Master stared back at him. "Tell me, and I promise to let you go."

"I would go home sir. I would go home to see my wife."

"Where is your home, old man?"

"It's in the East of the Netherlands. Near a small town close to the German borders." The man's voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over as he was swept away by his memories. The Master closed his eyes and entered his mind. A white landscape of frozen fields appeared in front of him. His boots were sinking away in the deep layer of snow and the old sledge that he was pulling behind him got caught in the fallen branches scattered over the road. His ears and cheeks stung with the cold while he breathed out white dense clouds. In the distance an old farmhouse appeared with smoke rising from a crooked chimney. A warm light burnt in the kitchen window, and a woman in her early twenties waited at the door. He waved at her, his hands frozen from pulling the sledge and digging in the fields for potatoes. She came up at him and planted a kiss on his cheek, wrapping her arms around him. When she noticed how cold his hands were, she took them into her own, and breathed her hot breath on them.

The Master opened his eyes. The old man was still captured in his blissful memory of long ago, his mind trapped in a sub-consciousness that the Master had brought to the surface. The wires of the metal cage suddenly sparked alive, and an energy surge was registered on the monitors. The Master glanced over his shoulder at the Toclefane, than gazed back at the old man, who seemed to be at peace. He closed the old man's eyes before he pulled over the lever.

A bright blue and purple energy field was extracted from the old man, who jerked his head in convulsions before he finally came to lie perfectly still.

What was left of the old man bounced wildly inside the metal cage in which it was trapped, burning brightly like a miniature star. The Master looked into the blazing cloud, and recalling the old man's memories of his home, wondered which part of the dust-like particles had made up the smoke in the cold freezing air, the smell of his wife's hair, or the warm touch of her soft hands.

The brilliant particles swirled around the cage for a couple of seconds more, than vanished.

The Toclefane flew closer to observe. "Where did it go?" It asked, while rotating it's lower half in excitement.

"Into the machine." The Master answered in flat voice. "With the rest of them." He turned to the huge antenna-like structure in the back of the laboratory. A sudden surge of electrical discharge caused a lighting-like display that blinded them for a moment before the energy settled down between the coils in the form of a violet spark that slithered over the wires.

"It has worked then!" The Toclefane exclaimed. "The machine is finally ready!"

"Of course it works." The Master responded, and eyed angrily at the demented silver ball. This last experiment had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. "I knew it would work." He added in a voice that sounded more disappointed than thrilled.

"Oh you must tell my Lord and Master. He will be so happy to hear the good news."

"Why don't you go and tell him? Maybe he will reward you with a new set of razorblades." He said sarcastically.

"I understand." The Toclefane buzzed. "You're so excited that you want to continue working. I don't blame you. It's such great fun to see them wriggle and shudder before their brains shut down! Go on then!" It exclaimed and performed a little pirouette in the air. "Let's do another one! I'll let you stay in the laboratory a little longer."

The Master gazed back at the Toclefane in silence. Who would have thought in the past that this repulsive creature, one of his own creation, would grown more alien to him in thought and action then any other creature he had ever encountered in his long and ruthless life.

"No." He sighed. "You're right. We should inform him. So let's go see your Lord and Master, and have a nice long chat with him, shall we?"

**TBC**

**Finally, I got time to sit down with a cup of thee and write this story! I'm going to continue this week, so there should be a new chapter up soon. For those who are interested, I've made a blogsite dedicated to John Simm. Please drop by to say hi! Go to my profile page (by clicking on my penname) for the link. As always, reviews are much appreciated!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15**

**1.**

Lucy could not stop staring at the creature inside the gilded birdcage. The way its huge eyes bulged out of the sockets of its domed shaped head, and the thin wire-like neck to which the head was attached to the rest of its frail body made her think of vulnerable baby birds that had just hatched out of their eggs. She also couldn't stop glancing over her shoulder at her husband, whose expression reminded her of a feline predator stalking around the cage for a tasty meal. A cold shivered down her spine as she imagined, just briefly, what Harry could do to the poor creature if he just reached out into the cage and grab hold of it too harshly. She shuddered, but kept telling herself that it didn't matter. Soon, all of this would be all over. What truly mattered was that she kept watching, and registering, and storing these events into her memory.

"So what do you think Doctor?" Saxon studied the expression on his caged pet's face, which was hard to read for between the many folds of wrinkles. "Is this good or bad?"

The three of them were inside the Tardis turned paradox machine, where the wheezing, sickening sound of the engines reminded the Doctor of what kind of monstrosity the Master had created out of his beloved time machine. The Tardis core bathed in a bright violet glow that slowly turned green, then back to violet again. The sight of the Tardis pained his hearts. It was obvious that it was struggling, not to free itself from its bonds, but was fighting against all ods to survive.

"Well, if it's bad for you, I suppose it's good for me." Saxon smirked.

"It can't keep this up." The Doctor replied, his words were nothing more but whispers that were easily drowned out by the noise of the Tardis engine. Still Saxon could hear him loud and clear.

"Oh you're just saying that because you're losing the game. You're such a sore loser, can't you just be happy for me for once?" He mocked.

"Master, look at it! The paradox that you've created is killing the core. It's draining the Tardis dry like a disease."

"You're wrong." Saxon shook his head and grinned. "The Tardis has been continuously trying to fight it off ever since I installed it into its heart. And still, both the Tardis and the paradox exist."

"You've changed the future too many times. It can't keep up forever."

"And whose fault is that?" Saxon moved closer to the cage, seeing the Doctor eye to eye as he rested his forehead on the bars. "Certainly not mine. Why don't you blame your red-head simpleton of a companion-to-be for this chaos that she has created? Or why not blame yourself? If this part of history isn't turning out to your liking, with no happy ever after, and Christmas and a bunch of cute little Earthlings saved from their well-deserved demise, shouldn't that be the fault of the Doctor? For failing them all?" He whispered with a cruel glint in his eyes.

The Doctor fell silent as the Tardis doors swept open and the Master entered the control room. He was closely escorted by two Toclefanes.

"Or maybe…I should blame him." Saxon snorted, and turned to his future-self.

"What's going on?" The Master hadn't seen the Tardis since he was captured, and like a man who had not seen his friend who has fallen ill for a long time, the changes were more striking to him than to the others. For if the Tardis had looked ill when he had first set eyes on it, it now looked emaciated, a shadow of its former self and close to dying. "What happened?" As a Timelord, he felt the pain of its suffering in hearts. He looked his past-self in the eyes, and couldn't understand why he remained seemingly so unaffected by it all.

Saxon rolled his eyes at him. "You're not going to start too, are you? It's bad enough that the Doctor here is preaching hail and doom over us all." He turned to him and sneered. "It's still under control. Don't crack your head on it."

The Master gazed at the Doctor, who shook and bowed his head.

"And what the hell are you doing here?" Saxon asked, irritated. "Aren't you suppose to keep yourself busy in the lab?"

The Master lowered his eyes. Over the past long, gruesome months, he had learned not to provoke him. "It's the machine. I think it's ready."

Saxon's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes Master!" Both of the Toclefanes sing-songed in chorus, for they all shared a common memory. "We've seen it! We've seen how it worked! The machine is singing and our Master's day of joy and glory will soon be upon us!"

"Ha! But that's absolutely fantastic!" Saxon swirled on his heels. "Do you hear that Doctor? It's ready! Soon you don't need to worry about your precious Tardis. We won't need it any longer. The paradox will be capable to hold its own."

The Doctor pulled himself up against the bars with a frightened expression on his wrinkled face. "What are you going to do?"

Saxon stared back at him, and grinned. In his captor's eyes, the Doctor could see a violent madness swirling like the time vortex inside a pool of darkness that mirrored his soul. "I'm going to raise the drums." Saxon whispered, and his grin widened in a smile. "I am going to thrust a dagger into the fabric of reality to slit its belly wide open to let the Legions enter. Under my command, the Timelords will rise again when the past and future are fused into one, glorious whole."

Fear stabbed the Doctor's hearts. "Master, listen to me." He warned, and clutched desperately onto the bars till his knuckles turned white. "I know what the drums are. They are not here to help you rebuild Gallifrey. If you let them in, they will destroy everything. It would be the end of the universe!"

"The end of the universe, Doctor, has already happened. Didn't you see it dying, back on Macassairo? Nothing left but the husks of burnt-out stars. A cold and empty wasteland of the celestial corpses, stretching out for eternity. What Legion promised me so many years ago was a remedy, a cure against the inevitable, a final solution. They will help me to create a new Gallifrey in the sky, once I've kept my part of the bargain at least." Saxon stepped away from the Doctor's cage.

"I pity you Doctor that you cannot hear the drums. But don't despair. Soon, I will no longer be the only one who can hear it. The call to war will be inside us all."

He took Lucy's hand and pulled her behind him as he walked out of the door. "Come then, my darling dearest, let's go see this great machine at work." The Toclefanes cheered and flew after their master. Lucy looked over her shoulder and kept gazing at the Master with unblinking eyes till the doors were closed behind her. Left alone with the Doctor, the Master felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine. Why is she always looking at him like that? He felt sorry for her. Having regained some of his memory, he could recall the beautiful and affectionate young woman that she once was. Not too bright, but with a good heart. He knew what he had reduced her into. The guilt of it weighted heavily on his shoulders every time that he was forced to meet her eyes.

"She looks at you because she believes that can she recognize a part of him in you." The Doctor crawled towards the Master with much effort, leaning on the bars to move forward.

"What has that poor woman been using?" The Master snorted with a sarcastic grin on his face. "Does she still not know who I am?"

"It's not that part of him that she recognizes." The Doctor answered. "She loved him, and perhaps still does. She just cannot find what she loved in the man she calls husband."

The Master stared at the Doctor in silence, then burst out into laughter.

"When you're wrong, you really are so incredibly wrong! What she sees is a murderer, and what keeps her staring at me for is the fear that one day she won't live to see another sunrise. She fell in love with a wolf in disguise. The man she loved had never existed."

"You know that's not true."

The Master bowed his head. "You know that you've lost Doctor. This time, there won't be a happy ending. For neither of us." He looked up at the Tardis core, which engines send out such pitiful sounds that it seemed like it was mourning. "Just another 24 hours more...." He muttered, with a forlorn expression on his face.

A Toclefane materialized inside the control room, and hovered in front of the Master.

"You are summoned by our Lord and Master." It simply stated.

"Perhaps then when the end is here, we'll both finally find some peace and quiet." The Master smiled sadly, and turned away from the Doctor, who kept staring at him as he left under the escort of the silver minion.

**2.**

The transmission was bad, not that he couldn't see the new officer's face, but his voice sounded like he was packaged inside a tin can and shot out into space. The very idea of it produced a vivid mental picture inside his mind of one of his faceless goon soldiers cramped inside a useless satellite, orbiting around the earth while screaming his lungs out in despair, till the very limited supply of air in the cabin ran out. He made a mental note to himself that he should let this very amusing sentence be carried as soon as he had thought of any excuse to chastise his troops. The mechanic who was to be blamed for this rubbish connection would do nicely.

"My Lord and Master, I have received great news." The young officer proclaimed with as much faked cheerfulness as he could muster. Saxon stared at the screen and wondered if he was really that pale or that it was perhaps the crappy satellite receiver that caused the young man to look like he was already dead and buried. He found it amusing and a bit tasteless, like he was staring at a painting of a weeping clown or something. He made yet another mental note, that he should dispose of this new officer as soon as the goon had barfed up the message that he had obviously swallowed in fear. There must be still one or two among the human military left who he didn't find repulsive to work with.

"Speak." He ordered, and leaned back in his leather chair. If the chap hurried up he could still let his secretary type out memos for a replacement and send what's-his-name out into space to choke to death before dinner.

"It's professor Dorcherty. She contacted us with the message that Donna Noble and Martha Jones are back in England my Lord."

Saxon rose from his chair in anticipation. "Where are they now?"

"They have left and are on their way to the barracks of the second London units my Lord."

Saxon clapped his hands. "Perfect! Perfect timing. With them here, and the machine singing. Oh my old friend, you could say that the end is nigh…"

"Should I dispatch the troops my Lord, and capture them for your safety?" The officer opted hesitantly, with a badly concealed shiver in his voice.

"I think I can handle this one on my own, thank you…"

"It's colonel Fairmount my Lord. At your service my Lord."

"Yes, yes, what-ever." Saxon quickly dismissed him. Although he much appreciated the fear that he could evoke in his simple-minded human subjects, he couldn't stand the persistent cowering of this particular young man, and if he had to endure yet another shivering _my Lord_ from this piece of hippopotamus waste he would actually vomit. When the officer was off-line he called in on his secretary, a lovely young African woman with a skin that shone like olives and full sensual hips, and made the necessary arrangements for the "late" colonel's succession, before he prepared himself to disembark the ship.

**3.**

"Blimey, it's very cozy in here." Donna tried to squeeze herself between the groups of people sitting on the staircase in the once stately four level house turned barrack, and started handing out her limited provision to the prisoners. "Take a piece of baguette, came from France just this morning. Can't say for sure that has been baked that recently, but at least is sounds fancy."

A young girl, barely fourteen years old and looking absolutely famished, broke a piece off the stale bread before handing it over to her brothers. "Thank you miss." She said gratefully.

Donna nodded and smiled. "There you go, one full year on the run for psychotic Timelords and murderous silver footballs, and still I look like a singleton." She turned to Martha who responded to her witty remark with a broad smile. "Well, at least we are warmer like this, all huddled up." Donna noted, rubbing her hands together. "It's freezing in here. Don't you guys get any coal or wood to burn?"

"We used to." One the girl's brothers replied. "But they stopped handing them out to us a few weeks ago. It got something to do with using the last of the resources to melt down the railway tracks to convert it into munitions for the soldiers."

"Glad they used it for something useful then." Donna remarked not without sarcasm, and looked around in the house. "How about those cupboards and shelves, we could burn those."

"We are not allowed to make fire anymore in our quarters." The young girl explained. "If they catch us, they'll send us to the experimentation camps, or worse."

"They can't let you live like this. It's cold and you're starving. You'll all get ill." Donna objected.

"Some of us are already too ill to work in his factories, but he doesn't care. Not anymore." The young man replied, and hugged his sister. "I think he wants to get rid of us. We've done what he wanted, and now he will just leave us here to die."

"If we're lucky enough, that is." An older woman sighed with a solemn expression on her face.

"You're not going to die. Don't talk like this." Martha responded. "There is still hope."

"Hope for what? A quick and painless death? Or hope for yet another day of this…this hopelessness and hunger. I haven't eaten for weeks." The older woman complained and rested her head against the stairpikes.

"There is hope, because of one man." She stared at the faces in the dark that surrounded her. Everyone here knew who she and Donna were, now she was going to tell them about the man who they had never met but had saved their lives so many times before, and will again. If they would just be prepared to listen to her.

She told them about the Doctor, what she had seen, what he had done for her and for many others. How selfless he was, and how incredibly kind, and how one day he would return to her, and defeat the Master to restore everything to how it once was. The people around her listened quietly, and slowly took her words of hope into their hearts while outside the light of day faded at the horizon, till the darkness in the streets was absolute and complete.

Saxon stalked the streets with the grace of a predator in search of his prey. His arms were raised and his black leather gloves squeaking when he rubbed his fingers in anticipation. "Oh come little girlies!" He sing-songed, and gestured to his men to follow closely behind.

"Come out come out, where ever you are. Come and meet your Master."

When there came no response, he raised his voice to address the frightened humans inside the barracks. "You know what the penalty is for hiding these two? It's death you dimwits. By any way of my choosing. Let me tell you that it won't be a pretty one. Something involving a pair of meat-hooks and an elaborate amount of cooking oil springs to mind. Ever heard of what Nero did to the Christians? I think we could all use a little light in these dark times."

The people inside the barrack were seized by panic with everybody talking and moving at once. Tom quickly took a blanket from one of the prisoners and hid Martha and Donna underneath. "Sshh!" He urged. "Hide them! Don't say a word." He took his gun out of his backpack and moved slowly towards the door.

"Well isn't that disappointing?" Saxon exclaimed. "Anybody? No? Right. Positions!"

The men aimed their guns at the derelict houses. The fearful faces of its inhabitants appeared in front of the windows.

"Look around you ladies. Look at those faces, for you are going to be responsible for what is about to happen to them. On the count of three!"

Martha closed her eyes, the mad frightened drumming of her heart could not block out the dreadful meaning of Saxon's message. Donna slipped her hand inside her pockets and closed her fingers around the small device that the Master had given her.

"We can't let him do this." Donna whispered and gazed at Martha.

"No, you're right. We can't." Martha threw the blanket from her shoulders and with all the prisoners staring at her, made her way to the door.

"One, two…" Saxon stopped counting, and clapped in his hands. "Oh look at that! Well done girls. Very brave indeed. The old sockpuppet taught you well."

Martha stepped out into the streets, closely followed by Donna.

Saxon raised his weapon. "That's close enough. The bag. Hand me the bag, miss Jones."

As soon as Martha took off the bag and threw it in front of his feet, Saxon fired his laserscrewdriver and destroyed it.

"Right, there goes the magic gun." He adjusted the laserscrewdriver, then took aim again at Martha. "Now to dispose of the Doctor's faithful companion. Any last words?"

Martha took in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"She might not, but I certainly have." Donna spat and took a few brave steps towards him, only to be held back by a wall of guns pointing at her.

Saxon pulled a face as if he had just swallowed something very foul-tasting. "Donna Noble." He mused, and lowered his weapon. "Why aren't you dead yet? Didn't my last broadcast broke your heart to pieces?"

"I'm still here, and I won't go anywhere until I have wiped that greasy smile off your thick bloated head!"

Saxon sighed deeply. "I think I should get rid of the most annoying one first, sorry miss Jones." And he aimed the laser at Donna's head. "Should blast that most irritating loud-mouth of yours right to kingdom come." He said, and smiled almost politely at her, when Tom suddenly rushed out of the house with his gun in his hand. He was ready to fire at the tyrant and put an end to his life when Saxon simply diverted his aim at Tom Hilligan's chest and blasted a hole in his lungs. The young man went down screaming. Donna uttered a cry, while Martha gazed at Tom's dying body with hooded eyes, and felt how a cold hand wrenched her heart.

Saxon stared at the dead young man for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Man that was FUN!" He cheered, with an excited _did you see that?!_ expression on his face. "And the best part is that he really stays dead. I got so used to target practicing on captain bisexsual that I forgot how it felt to really kill a man with my own hands. It feels…" He closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. "Absolutely FANTASTIC!"

"You're disgusting!" Donna yelled. "How can you be so ruthless?! You murdered him! You should feel remorse and guilt, not psychopathic joy! The Doctor told me that you were mad, that the vortex had poisoned your mind, but I see now that he was wrong about you. You're not mad, you're a cold-hearted monster!"

Saxon stepped forward and grabbed Donna, digging his fingers into her cheeks till it hurt and she was unable to continue her angered rambling.

"Let me remind you, miss Noble, that I am not the gullible version of myself, who would allow you to express your opinion about me so very openly." He hissed into her face, his had childlike joy vanished completely without a trace. "And I doubt if I would appreciate your Jiminey Cricket act much. So be warned." He pushed her aside. Donna landed on the ground in front of his feet and stared back at him with a look full of anger and resentment.

"But then, shouldn't the death of these beloved companions be witnessed by the ones who actually gives a bloody toss?" He mocked ,and put his laserscrewdriver back inside his pocket. He gazed at his men. "Oh don't just stand there like a bunch tragic Greek figures. Take these two in." He stepped back to his car. As he observed how Donna was dragged away by his soldiers he added. "And gag the gingerhead, I don't want to hear a single word coming out of her."

"What about the prisoners?" A commander asked.

"What about them?" Saxon said with an air of indifference. "What kind of work do they do for me?"

"They work at sector 14 my Lord. They make the rocket casings."

"Well that's finished, isn't it? I don't think I need laborers after the actual labor is done."

The commander understood his message, and started to assemble his troops. Saxon watched how his men escorted the two women inside the trucks and inhaled deeply.

"Patience Earthlings. Patience. Just one more night of darkness, and tomorrow will be a brave new world."

**TBC and merry X-mas to you all!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**1.**

The prison she was put in was somewhere in the belly of the great ship. It was close to the engines, for it was sweltering hot in her cell, and she could hear the turbines constant roar, fighting to keep the massive structure floating in the air. No sign of the Doctor though, and she hadn't seen Martha since they were captured. A short stubby little man, who must be her guard, bought her some food and water, but it was impossible to tempt him in talking to her, although she had tried hard to piss him off.

Eventually, she realized that wouldn't come for her till dawn. The corridor outside her cell was deserted, and she was on her own. Donna sank down on her cot, her throat sore of shouting. Facing her was one of those digital counters that seemed to have been installed in every room on board of the Valliant. No longer did it display the time. It was now counting down the seconds. There was only four hours left before it would reach zero.

She had been running for so long that she never had time before to think. Now that she was forced into isolation, with no-where to left to run and with the four walls of her prison closing in on her, she realized that she had never felt so utterly alone in her entire life. She took out the Master's keepsake out of her pocket. The guards had searched her before she was brought in, but for some reason, had overlooked this little trinket. Perhaps they had let her keep it because they knew that it was broken and useless. She traced with her fingers over the small empty screen, and recalled how she had been forced to watch how the Master had aged the Doctor. She exhaled deeply. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"Why didn't you eat? You look like you're starving."

She raised her head up, her heart racing. There was only a tiny barred window in the door of her cell that allowed her a glimpse of the world outside. A man stood in front of it. A shadow obscured his face, but she recognized his voice.

She took in a deep breath, and forced herself to recall how Saxon had tricked her so very cruelly before.

"You must eat something to keep your strength." The man said.

"No thanks." She answered coldly. "I would rather not be poisoned." Her voice had the tendency to tremble, but she forced herself to sound strong. "Besides, even if it isn't poisoned, what's the bloody point? You are going to execute me in the morning. If my gallows meal is going to be offered to me with complements from the great Harold Saxon, than I would rather stuff myself with the rat droppings on the floor."

There was a short silence at the other side before she heard him snigger.

"Thank God." He laughed. "He couldn't shut you up! But then again, who in the world could?"

It finally dawned on Donna. That voice for which she had carried so little hope suddenly shook her awake. She rose and stepped towards the tiny window, placing her hands on the bars.

"It's you." She whispered. She studied his face. This time, the man she was facing wasn't Harold Saxon. He looked thinner, and tired, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken, but his lips carried a smile of relief. "It really is you!" She blurted out. The tears welled up again, but this time they ran down her cheek out of joy. She reached out as far as the bars allowed her, and touched his face. He gently wiped her tears away with his fingertips.

"You're not hurt?" He asked with concern, and studied her. "He didn't do anything to you?"

She shook her head. "You have to find Martha. He got her too! He said he was going to execute us in front of the Doctor. You must-"

"I can't do anything for her." He stated in a matter of fact voice.

She didn't understand it at first. "But…didn't you escaped? Saxon won't let you go on his own."

"No, he won't. Unless he is sure that I will do exactly what he wants me to do." He lowered his head to escape her questioning eyes. "I do his biddings now." He explained. "I'm not here to help the others."

"What are you talking about? You can't be..." She shook her head. "I saw you. That day when Saxon send out that message to threaten me and Martha. When he ordered you to hurt the Doctor, you were reluctant. He had to force you to do it."

"How could you know?" He asked bitterly.

"I saw it." Donna said, as she waited for him to raise his head again to look at her. "I saw it in your eyes. You're not anything like him. Not anymore."

He remained silent with his head bowed.

"Please." Donna urged. "You've got to help the Doctor and the others."

"I can't." He finally looked up at her, but his eyes were shadowed by a deep darkness that she hadn't seen before. "You've no idea how bad it is. And it's going to become even worse once this day is over. He won't kill the Doctor. He enjoys it too much so see him suffer. I think it's the only thing that keeps him going. As for the others, they are dispensable. By being involved with him they have dug their own graves. Nothing gives him more pleasure than to see the Doctor grief over these humans deaths. There's nothing I can do."

"Then, why are you here?"

The Master was baffled by her question. "I'm here to help you."

Donna shook her head and stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm sure I can reason with him. I've slaved and sweated to build that bloody machine for him. I've done everything he had asked of me. It won't be for nothing."

"Have you become as mad as he is? You know you can't trust him!"

"I just want you to be safe." He tried. "You have to stay by my side Donna. Once the drums are here, there is no place left in the universe to hide. Everything is going to be destroyed. He won't stop till there is nothing left! You don't want to oppose him or be out there now on your own!"

Donna turned away from him. She held her hand on her mouth to stop herself from crying as her world was falling apart.

"Donna. You're not listening. I want to save you! You should stay on board of the Valliant. He won't kill me. He doesn't have the guts to kill me. So if you just let me plead for your release, and you promise to keep your head down afterwards -"

"I don't need…" She choked on her words as the pain of his betrayal wrenched her heart and knocked the air out of her lungs. "I don't need you to save me!" She shouted through her tears.

The Master was shocked. "I don't understand this."

She returned to her cot and wept quietly. "I thought you said you cannot do anything for anyone. Why am I so lucky then?" She asked in a shivering voice.

"Oh come on! Why do you always need to be so pigheaded?!" He suddenly yelled, more out of desperation and concern than any real anger. "Ever since we got here we've been running like fugitives. We've crossed the world together, fighting for our lives and hiding in sewers like rats. And now you're telling me that after surviving all these months of hardship you rather get yourself killed because you cannot put aside your dimwitted morals and swallow your stupid, _stupid_ pride?!"

"It seems that those are all I got left." Donna whispered with her eyes turning cold. "I'm asking you for the last time. Did you mean every word you've just said to me?"

The Master looked away with a pained expression on face, his lips pressed together tightly till they were but thin white lines, preventing him from telling her what was on his mind.

"Right." Donna muttered. "If that's so, than you shouldn't waste any more of your time on me. You don't need to go crawl and beg for my life at Saxon's feet. Let me share the same fate with the others, and let him execute me tomorrow. Why should I be treated any differently? I'm nothing special."

Her words pierced right through his hearts, but the Master said nothing in return and left.

**2.**

The first light of dawn had only just breached the horizon when the guards came to collect her. She felt relieved. Her heart was numb and her hands were cold, like she had been fished out of a frozen pond. The men pulled her up from the cot.

"Get your hands off me. I'll walk." She didn't need to be dragged to her fate for she had made up her mind. Today, everything will finally be resolved, and her troubles with the Master would seize to exist, one way or the other.

The men brought her to the control deck where their Lord and Master was waiting. The doors in the great hall parted and Donna stepped inside. Other prisoners were gathered here, and when Donna saw Jack standing at the side with Martha's family, she couldn't suppress a sigh of relief. The captain was shackled in chains while the others were kept under guard by armed soldiers, but at least they seemed to be unharmed. She was pushed towards a high scaffold built around a machine with two massive antennas. Angry sparks of energy ignited from the coils that ran between them. The guard next to her moved with his gun, gesturing that she should look up. There, standing on top of the platform next to the control panel, was Harold Saxon himself, gazing down at her with a large complacent smile plastered over his face. Lucy Saxon was by his side, but her expression was blank, and she reacted to her husband's violent thrills with apathy, while she constantly wore a sad ghost of a smile on her ruby painted lips.

Standing behind him, like his shadow turned into flesh, was the Master. For a short moment, their eyes met.

The doors swept open behind her. Donna turned and felt such relief when she saw that it was Martha who was escorted into the room. When she came to stand next to her to face Saxon, she glanced at her and gave her a faint smile, as if to remind Donna to keep faith, and not to be scared of the ruthless man towering above them.

"Finally." Saxon exclaimed in a teasing voice. "The whole gang is back together again. Isn't this a joyful occasion. What do you think?" He picked up the birdcage from the platform to show it to those cowering at his feet below. The Doctor steadied himself by grabbing hold of the bars, and whispered something that only Saxon and the Master could hear. Saxon's cheerfulness immediately turned into annoyance. "Oh hush you old prune. If you don't stop saying that, I swear I'm going to rip out your tongue." Donna uttered a cry as Saxon dropped the cage on the floor and kicked it aside.

"Speaking of keeping one's mouth shut, why is that irritating redhead not gagged?" He stared down at her for a moment before he fixed his gaze on Martha. "And did anybody even bothered to search this one?" He rolled with his eyes as the guards slowly responded to their Lord's comments and started searching her pockets. "Not in there, you dimwits. It's that locker-shaped device dangling from her neck." Martha gasped as one the guards snatched the necklace with the small teleporter from her.

"Give it here." Saxon ordered. "That's a good little Earthling. Now, kneel, both of you."

Martha kneeled down while the guards had to push Donna on her knees. They tried to shove a piece of cloth into her mouth but she kept spitting it out.

"Always the difficult one." Saxon sighed mockingly. "Never mind." He inhaled deeply and raised his head high. "Down on earth, the fleet is ready to launch. In three minutes, the blackhole converters will align, and two hundred thousand ships will be set their course into space to burn right across the universe." He spun around and watched excitedly how the counter on the wall ticked away the precious seconds. "I never could resist a ticking clock." Saxon cheered, and grabbed hold of his forlorn wife. He pressed his lips onto hers with his tongue wriggling inside her mouth. Then he grinned and wiped the lipstick off before he pushed her aside and moved to the intercom.

"My children. Are you ready?"

Six billion Toclefanes, floating in the Earth's stratosphere and all waiting for his command, roared through the speakers. Their voices were united and sounded as one. "We are ready Master! We will fly and blaze and slice! We will fly and blaze and slice!"

"At zero, to mark this marvelous, glorious day, these two, the past and future companions of the Doctor, will die." He grinned down at her, and Donna felt a cold shiver snake along her spine as she recognized the same madness in his eyes that she had seen when he brutally murdered Tom Milligan.

"Ha, isn't this exciting? Like slicing up the turkey at Christmas! I think I'll start with the gingerhead. It's weird, but I wanted to kill her ever since I set eyes on her." He glanced back at his future-self whose anguish was clearly visible on his face. "Perhaps there's really something as homicidal hate at first sight." He laughed and slowly aimed his laserscrewdriver at Donna.

"Bow down your head. Now, I know I'm going to regret this, but since this is a special occasion. Any last words, Donna Noble?"

Donna ignored him, but gazed at the Master one last time, then inhaled deeply before closing her eyes.

"Nothing? Are you sure?" Saxon ridiculed. "No mad-woman's ramblings, no well-articulated opinions that you would like to share with us _miss_ Noble?" Donna remained silent, and Saxon glanced at his future-self. "I thought you liked her because you admired her strong spirit. Such a terrible mistake you've made! Look at her. She is absolutely pathetic." He gazed down at Donna. "An over the hill, dimwitted Earth woman with mundane looks and who is, to be honest, a bit on the large side, who thinks she is worthy of a Timelord. Who do you think that you are? One of the great temptresses of Katria Nova? The Goddess Venus of Botticelli perhaps?" His laugh that followed was cruel, but the hurt didn't show on Donna's face.

"You, miss Noble, aren't even worthy of being the Doctor's companion, let alone to be one of mine." He aimed his weapon at her head. "And so it falls to me, the Master of all, to establish from this day on, a new order of Timelords, and from this day forward –"

Donna's lips pulled into a smile, and was joined by Martha who started to chuckle.

Saxon halted, visibly annoyed. "What? What's so bloody funny?"

"That gun." Martha replied, keeping her head bowed.

"What about it? I destroyed it, didn't I?"

"Did you really believe that we would build a special gun to kill you?" Donna opened her eyes again and stared at Saxon with a renewed defiance.

"What you do mean?" Saxon asked, confused for a moment, but then, the Doctor answered him in a voice that was still a whisper.

"I would never ask them to kill for me."

"It doesn't matter." Saxon snorted. "I still got them exactly where I want them, which is kneeling in front me to face their imminent execution."

"But we knew that you got control of professor Dorcherty because of her son. That's why we went to her. We wanted to be captured so would be here at the right time." Martha explained.

"We weren't traveling the world trying to raise an armed resistance force or to search for some legendary weapon to kill." Donna added. "We were fighting you by telling others about the Doctor. No weapons or mindless bloodshed, just words."

"We did just what the Doctor said." Martha finally gazed up and looked at the Doctor, who stared back at her with a sad smile on his face. "And everywhere we went we found people who were prepared to listen. So we told them about the one man who can save us all from you. We told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everybody would know about it."

"Is that it? You were spreading faith and hope?" Saxon laughed. "A fat lot of good use that is for every sad Earthling in existence. Ladies, you both have wasted your time on magic beans and fairy dust."

"You're wrong." Martha said, and faced him with a glint of determination in her eyes. "Because I gave them an instruction. Just like the Doctor told me. I told them that if they would keep one thought in mind at one specific time using the countdown –"

"Something glorious would undoubtedly happen." Saxon mocked, with his laugher becoming more sarcastic as Martha continued. "I'm sure that by the very power of prayer, all will be restored."

Martha shook her head. "It's not just a simple prayer. Right across the world, one word will be spoken in the collective human consciousness, but amplified by the 15 working satellites of your precious Archangel network."

Saxon was still seemingly unaffected by Martha's threats, but his cynical smile slowly turned to stone. Donna studied his face and than glanced at the Master. Something in the Timelord's eyes, a badly hidden sense of gloom, worried her deeply.

But Martha didn't notice it, and continued. "Using it as a telepathic field joining the whole human race together, with all of them, every person on earth thinking the same thing at the same time, just one word. And that word is…Doctor."

The countdown finally reached zero, and the cage with the Doctor still lying at Saxon 's feet was suddenly engulfed by brightly glowing rings of light.

Saxon stared at the buildup of energy and pressed his lips tightly together as he realized that he was losing control. The prisoners in the room closed their eyes and called out for the Doctor. All over the world, the same thing was happening. The enslaved humans in the labour-camps all stopped working and called the Timelord's name. Most of their guards threw down their guns and joined them, for they too were tired of Saxon's blood-drenched reign. The few free men and women of the Resistance knelt down and whispered Doctor in the dark tunnels beneath the ground or in the abandoned houses where they sheltered. People in Asia, Africa, Europe and the new world, people of different religion and different skin color, all joined together in one thought, in one dream of hope and salvation, all crying out for the Doctor to help them.

When the guards in the control room saw that the energy field had broken the Doctor free out of his cage and had restored him to an old man, they didn't think twice and they too called for the Doctor. Finally, Lucy closed her eyes. She knew it was almost time, and she did exactly what she must do. She could call out the Doctor's name once, not in a silent prayer but out-loud in a clear voice, before she felt the sting of her husband's hand burning on her cheek. Saxon threw her against the machine. "Traitor." He hissed in her face, while the anger burning inside him remained dangerously calm. "Now I know for sure that I should get rid of you." He turned to his future-self with a mad grin on his face. "If you still want to protect the paradox, and save your own life. Now would be the right time to do something about this."

The Master stared at him. His hand hesitated on the handle on the control panel of his great machine. Saxon strode towards him in angry steps. "Must I do everything around here?" He sneered, and grabbing hold of the Master's hand, he pushed the lever down.

The glowing light around the Doctor abruptly dimmed as the machine behind them sparked into life. A great vortex of energy appeared between the two antennas, and grew quickly in size as blue particles were captured in an orbit around it, like rocks around a neutron star, spinning at increasing speed till it became one massive ball of blinding light and immense heat.

The violence by which the vortex was created knocked the Doctor off his feet, and made the Master stagger backwards. Harold Saxon stared at his creation with a glint of madness in his eyes. Such raw magnificent beauty, and such _power_. Perhaps the Doctor was right, how could he call humankind a degenerate race if they were capable of producing _this_! He turned to look at the Doctor, who watched the workings of the Master's creation with growing horror.

"What have you done?" He asked in a frail voice. With his youth only partly restored, he was still helpless and unable to put a halt to Saxon's madness.

"Interception!" Saxon roared, above the noise of the vortex, and over the sound of drums that swelled inside his mind. He threw his head back, lifted his arms in the air, cherishing his moment of victory. "By telling them to think one thought at one specific time and by aligning my satellite network on their signal, you have just made it too easy for me to hack in and steal that precious energy. Instead of wasting it on you, it's now being stored inside this telepathic energy vault, ready to be put to a better use."

Donna couldn't move, not even a finger. She stared at the others. Everyone-else who had called for the Doctor was suffering the same fate. Inside her head, the frightened voices of thousands of men and women were screaming for help, their consciousness frozen together as it was drained and sucked into the vault.

"I knew about your secret, ever since I was able to look into the mind of my future-self." Saxon explained. "He may not realize it, but he remembers more than he knows. I saw it Doctor. I saw how Martha Jones came to me, performed her little trick, and got the rest of your precious humans to restore you. I saw how you defeated me. I'm not going to make that same mistake again."

_It's all my fault._ Donna thought, as she finally realized what Saxon had done. _I made this happen. I brought the Master back. Now the Doctor wouldn't be able to stop him and everything in the universe will die. _

"Master! Stop this!" The Doctor pleaded, and sank on his knees. "You're draining their minds dry! You are killing them! Please stop! I'll do anything! You can do anything to me, what-ever you want, but please just let them go!" He would give his life in return for those of the humans. But his enemy couldn't see the reason why he should stop.

"You, Doctor, are killing them." He replied with contempt. "Your friends are dying because you're not smart enough to save them." He turned to the great machine, and reached out to the heart of the vault where a crystal was locked inside an insulated casing. The bolts of energy that dispatched from the blazing sphere struck the tip of the crystal continuously, sending it aglow like a magnificent star.

"Me, I am too busy with becoming a God." Saxon whispered, and held in his breath as he touched the glowing stone with his fingers with a tenderness that one would reserve for lovers. Bolts of energy jumped over into his hand, and he let it enter by the nerve endings of his fingertips. He felt how it spread over his entire body, penetrating every cell. "With this massive amount of energy I could extend my life. Not only to restore it to its full, for what is only a thousand years, or a million years even, but a blink of an eye when facing eternity. No, what I aim to become is more than that! So much more! With the help of these Earthlings I will become immortal! As one of the last of the Timelords in existence, I shall become a living, breathing God!"

The Doctor reached forward and tried to pull the crystal from the vault's center. But as soon as he touched it he burnt his hand on the glowing stone. Saxon smiled as he watched how the Doctor let out a cry of agony. "Once again, it's isomorphically locked. You can never be too careful." He raised his hand and a bolt of blue energy ignited from the tip of his finger. It zapped the Doctor full in the chest, sending him flying against the wall.

"How about that! You've committed genocide for the sake of the birth of new God. But then again, was the Doctor himself not created in the fire of destruction and in the bloodshed of war." Saxon remarked, bursting into laughter, as he planted his hand flat on the crystal to let the energy flow free into his body. He felt how it reorganized the very atoms of his being, rewriting his biological DNA, improving it till the flaws that had programmed him to be susceptible for illness, and for natural deterioration and aging were completely removed. Saxon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. How good it felt, to be finally free from the fear of death! But still, there was more energy to be harvested, streaming in as billions of humans below kept feeding their minds into the machine, and as it passed through the vault and into Harold Saxon, he became aware of the enormous power that he was going to possess. For not only could his mind already function on a level that was far beyond that of the Doctor, it would also be capable of moving objects as it had gained the ability of telekinesis. He knew that if he would come to absorb everything that the human race could provide him, he would eventually be able to move the planets in the sky, change the very course of time, or even alter the very fabric of reality.

Donna observed all that happened in front of her with hollow eyes. Her mind was failing her, the neurons in her brain starting to shut down as all of the energy had been sucked out of these living cells. She was still standing on her feet, but the world around her was slowly turning black. The Master who had kept himself in the shadows behind his machine watched helplessly how the light in her eyes dimmed. She lost her consciousness and collapsed on the floor. Others followed, prisoners and guards alike. Their bodies grew limp and fell over as their mind turned blank.

Saxon, meanwhile, couldn't care less. "Oh Doctor, this is GLORIOUS!" He exclaimed. A dark madness, a relentless hunger for power, raged in his eyes. "I can move anything with only the power of my mind." And he demonstrated it by lifting one of the paralyzed guards from his feet till he dangled in mid-air, then smashed him head first against the wall, breaking the man's skull. "I can set fires to the oceans, I can blasts planets out of the sky, all by just wanting it to be done! Soon, I will be able to make the very fabric of reality tremble with just one snap of a finger." He inhaled deeply, and smiled. "And so it came to be that the renegade Timelord, who had once named himself the Master to impose order in the chaos of the universe, at long last tasted immortality, and finally silenced the drums inside his head by bringing it into this world." He turned to Doctor who gazed back at him in utter horror. "Once Legion has entered this dimension, you're time will be over." A look of nostalgia came up on Saxon's face. "Did you ever wonder why I never could kill you? It's a bloody mystery really, even to me. But now I finally understand. You Doctor, are a part of me, a necessary evil, the bleeding thorn in my side. You were the force who had shaped me into who I am. If I had succeeded in killing you, then who on Gallifrey should I be fighting?" He laughed cynically. "I guess I was afraid to be alone and without a purpose. But now that I've become a God…Well…who needs enemies when you're a living God?!"

"You're not a God yet."

The Master grabbed hold of the crystal and immediately the energy flowing into Saxon was cut down and redirected into his future-counterpart. The Master grinned back at him while Saxon's smile drained from his face. "Isomorphic control indeed. But with a slight modification. It's programmed to match my polluted, more inferior DNA, instead of yours. Hence the bypass." He winked at him defiantly. Before Saxon could strike back at him, he moved his hand and a lightening bolt blasted Saxon away from the machine. The Master took one look at Donna who was lying still on the floor. Her eyes were closed, but he could hear her breathing, and he knew that she was still alive. There was still time to save her. He closed his eyes, and using the isomorphic override that he had secretly programmed into the machine, he reversed the process, sending the energy from the vault back into the humans. But the process was so violent that he became stuck to the crystal. He felt how it started to drain him from his own strengths. Saxon rose up and fired a bolt of energy at his future-self.

"Get off the fucking control!" He roared in a furious anger, and blasted another lightening bolt at him, but the Master dived away while he held on to the crystal. "Doctor!" He yelled, gritting through his teeth as he tried to avoid the blasts. "I can't use the energy in the vault to restore you or they will die! I have to use the energy that was already transferred out of it."

The Doctor understood what he meant. "Finish the reverse process and save the others. Save her. There is no way you can restore me!"

"You're right." The Master muttered. "There is no way to do it. Not without some sort of conductor." When Saxon came close and raised his hand to fire a new bolt at him, he snatched his wrist and held it down firmly. The energy rushed out of Saxon's body, passing right through that of the Master, before it left him through the tip of his finger and blasted as a pure blue surge of energy into the Doctor.

"No!" Saxon shouted, and fought wildly like a captured beast to free himself, but his hand was now completely deadlocked. "You can't do this!" He stared furiously at the Master.

The energy-field returned around the Doctor, swelling steadily in size and increasing in brightness as the Timelord was fully restored to his former-self. Down below, Donna, like the others around her, regained consciousness and opened their eyes. She saw the Master struggling with Saxon to fight over the control of the machine, while the Doctor, _the fully restored Doctor_, continued to glow and started to levitate above the platform as the energy-field lifted his feet from the floor.

"Master!" She yelled, realizing what he was trying to do. "The Doctor is back!" A smile of hope dawned on her face. "You can stop now!"

"I can't." He gasped, and fell back against the control panel, his hand still holding firmly onto Saxon's wrist, while the energy is leaving him to add to that of the Doctor. "I can't stop it!"

"You idiot!" Saxon hissed. He was finally gaining the upper-hand as the Master quickly grew weaker. "If you want to sacrifice your life for her than so be it. I'm not going to join you in your demise. Not today." And with the last of his strength, he pushed himself away from his weakened counterpart and was free from the grip of the energy-field. Without Saxon, the energy pull quickly turned on the Master alone, draining him dry at a terrifying speed. Using telekinesis, the Doctor tore the Master away from the crystal.

Donna climbed up the staircase and rushed over to him as the Doctor gently put him down at her feet.

His eyes were closed. She called his name, but he didn't respond. She looked at the Doctor with anguish in her eyes. "Is he…" She couldn't get herself to finish the sentence. The Doctor shook his head.

"Stay with him."

He turned to Saxon, who now waved the laserscrewdriver from one prisoner to the other as he threatened the Doctor to kill them all if he came any closer. The Doctor stared at him with a stern expression on his face. "I'm sorry." He finally said, and swept the weapon out of his hands telekinetically. Unarmed, with his powers lost, and surrounded by his enemies, Saxon panicked.

"You can't do this! You can't do - it's not fair!" He raged.

The expression on the Doctor's face softened. "You know what happens now. You were reluctant to listen, because you knew what I was going to say."

"NO!" Saxon yelled, and stepped back as the Doctor approached. "No! no!" His brilliant mind now blank and captured in a state of fear and loathing of what was to come. He came to stand with his back against the wall, and curled into fetal position. When the Doctor looked down on him, it was only with great pity in his heart, but to his defeated enemy, this was more frightening than all the demons that came to visit him in the night.

The Doctor wrapped his arms around his whimpering fellow Timelord. "I forgive you." He spoke softly.

Instead of feeling any remorse, Saxon moved away from him, and warned his Toclefane army via the intercom. "My Children. Protect the paradox!" He ordered in desperation.

The Toclefanes obeyed. They repeated his order again and again till it sounded like a religious mantra as they descended upon the Valliant.

The Doctor let go of Saxon. "Captain, the paradox machine!"

Jack understood immediately, and turned to Saxon's men who were now back on their feet. Seeing that their ruthless master was finally defeated, they didn't hesitate to switch over to the other side. In this world of utter chaos, they were just content to follow the orders of any man who wasn't Harold Saxon for a change, and Jack was more than happy to take the lead. "You! Come with me! The paradox machine must be dismantled! The rest of you, stay here!" The men followed his orders.

The Master opened his eyes. He was pleased to see Donna sitting beside him. She gently caressed his face while a tear dripped down her chin.

"Hi there. You're back." She whispered.

The Master nodded, and grinned. "Didn't want to go anywhere without you."

Donna smiled through her tears. She just wanted to hug him tightly and plant a big smacker on his lips when Saxon hit her on her cheek with a flat hand, and pushed her aside.

"Sorry love. Have to borrow him for a while. Boys chat. You wouldn't be interested." He grabbed the Master by his arms and pulled him away from her. In his hand he had Martha's teleportation device.

Donna screamed, warning the Doctor who turned around. "No don't!" He yelled, and rushed toward them, but before he could stop him, Saxon activated the teleporter and both Masters disappeared in front of his eyes.

_**TBC**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**1.**

They materialized in a hot, noisy room, the two of them tumbling over each-other on a steel grate platform while steam rose up around them from the levels below. The vertigo hit them hard, but as soon as the Master felt solid ground underneath him he struck back at his past-self by kicking him in the ribs. The blow flung his attacker backwards, smashing him against a hard metal surface. Although surprised by this sudden act of resistance, Saxon rose back up quickly, only to bump his head on a railing. He looked up, and suddenly realized where they were.

"Oh hell!" He hissed, cursing under his breath. "We're still on board of the bleeding ship!!"

The Master gazed around. Saxon was right. They must be in one of the engine rooms below the control deck. There were turbines and generators and rusty pipelines everywhere, and the massive kerosene containers were all marked with the symbol of the great warship. A gleeful smile dawned on his lips.

"Oh yes! Miss Martha Jones, well done you clever, clever girl!" He laughed.

Saxon had to punch him in the face to shut him up.

**2.**

The Doctor stared wide-eyed at the empty spot where both Masters had disappeared. "Oh no!" He muttered. "No, no, no, no, no!" He swirled around, and faced an anguished Donna.

"He's gone!" She uttered in shock. "Doctor, he took him!"

"I promise you, we're getting him back." He said, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

Donna nodded eagerly before she furrowed her brows. "But, how?"

The Doctor didn't answer her, but ran down the stairs instead.

"Doctor! How are we going to do that?" Donna shouted after him, and rushed down the steps. "They can be anywhere!"

"No, they're still onboard of the Valliant."

The Doctor and Donna both halted their steps in front of Martha.

"What did you say?" The Doctor asked.

"I preprogrammed the teleporter in case the plan didn't work. It's set to transport them to one of the engine rooms below deck, just a couple of corridors away from where the Tardis is being kept."

"Oh, Martha, you're fantastic!" The Doctor exclaimed, grinning widely. "Donna, we're going down there. Martha, you better stay with your family and get them ready." He flashed a worried look at the great windowpanes surrounding the control deck. Up in the blue sky in the far distance, the dark swarms of Toclefanes that the Master had sent down on his flagship already started to appear.

"Go!" Martha said. "We'll hold as long as it takes." She waited till the Doctor disappeared with Donna through the sliding doors before addressing the rest of the people in the room.

"Listen everyone, the Toclefanes are here any minute! We must defend ourselves! Any volunteers?"

There was a short silence. Then the men who had formerly served Saxon stepped forward.

"The Valliant has a protection shield against missile attacks." The most senior of the officers opted. He had been in charge of Saxon's personal security. It seemed that the closer they have worked with him, the more eager they were to dessert their old master. Martha didn't blame them. "We can raise up the protection level to the max and activate the laser-cannons to blast those bastards out of the sky." He added.

Martha nodded before casting a glance at her family. They had joined the rest of the volunteers, and were given laser rifles and stun-guns to defend themselves. When they noticed the worried look on her face they smiled at her, as if to say that they were proud, and to reassure her that they were ready. It was exactly what Martha needed. She took in a deep breath and continued.

"Well then." She told everyone in the room in a voice that was loud and full of confidence. "Let's get this shield up and running. We're not going down without a fight!"

**3.**

Saxon stared at his knuckles and his ring with an expression that could only be described as morbid fascination.

They were completely covered in blood.

Trashing his future-counterpart had exhausted him, but the Master didn't seem to know when to stop, and kept sniggering even now that he had blood gushing down his face. Saxon rolled his eyes, and gave him another punch on his broken nose, which send the Master howling in pain for just a couple of seconds, before returning to his mad hysteric laughter. Saxon was mystified, and observed this strange behavior with much discontent.

"By Gallifrey, you are mad." He muttered, and booted the Master full in his stomach. As his victim rolled over the floor in agony, he took the teleporter and starting feeding in new coordinates. The Master, realizing what he was doing, crawled back up while leaning heavily against a fire-extinguisher positioned against the railing.

"You're not going to get far with that." The Master slurred, as warm blood trickled into his mouth.

"How about 500 meter that way down the corridor." Saxon replied without looking up at him. "Right into the Tardis control room." He turned a switch and after an impatient slap on the back of the black box, the device turned back on again. Saxon was just enjoying a short moment of triumph, when the Master picked up the fire-extinguisher and hit him full in the back of the head. The teleported dropped on the platform, and with one well-aimed kick from the Master it was sent sailing over the edge. It tumbled down into the cellar, many _many_ decks below.

Saxon became absolutely furious. "You fucking idiot!" He screamed. "You two-faced bastard! I swear if they are not going to kill you, I bloody am!! That's the last chance we had to get out of here alive!"

"They're not going to kill us." The Master replied, calmly. "The Doctor won't allow that. As for you." He added, and the mad smile was back again; "You don't have the guts."

Saxon wanted to give him another punch on the nose, but hesitated at the very last moment, popping his knuckles as he halted his fist just in front of the Master's face. "I don't know what you're still smiling about." Saxon sneered. "As soon as they destroy the paradox machine there is a good chance that you'll just disappear into thin air. For as far as I know that could be the only thing that had kept you here for so long."

The Master shook his head. "As long as getting rid of that travesty that you've created means that every bit of your vile, disgusting reign gets to be undone I won't bloody care! In fact, I'll cheer it on!" He turned away from him, and shouted down the corridors as if Jack was waiting there behind the closed doors. "Oh captain Jack!" He sing-songed mockingly. "Do me a favor will you, and blast that wretched thing into bleeding atoms!"

Saxon slapped him hard in the face, but the Master continued laughing as if his wits had finally deserted him.

"Shut up!" Saxon spat. "You're driving me insane!"

"Then let me go! What do you need me for? You can burn in hell on your own!"

Saxon lifted the Master from the floor and pinned him with his back against the railing.

"Is that what you want? You want to see me imprisoned by those miserable Earthlings? Hmm? Sent to some secret high security prison to be guarded by those goons from UNIT? Or worse, make me spend the rest of my life locked up in a cage in Torchwood? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT THEN?!"

"I was going to say that the Doctor might keep an eye on you. Maybe get your head examined? I'm sure it wouldn't hurt." The Master mocked, knowing very well which strings to pull to get him raging.

For a short moment Saxon seriously considered throwing him over the railing to watch with glee how his infuriating counter-part's brains would splatter all over the cellar floor. He somehow managed to calm his murderous urges, but nonetheless satisfied his call for retribution by beating him up till his victim sank through his knees, and crawled into tight ball in a pathetic attempt to dodge his malicious blows and kicks.

**4.**

Jack had gun-fired his way into the Tardis with the murderous silver balls close on his heels. He slammed the doors shut behind him and locked it to prevent the swarm from getting in. _Right_, he thought, as he reloaded his gun and aimed it at the much-hated paradox machine, _hope I know which part to blow up, and which part not_.

He fired, and sent pieces of metal and smoke high into the air.

**5.**

"You know what your mental problem is?" Saxon grabbed the bludgeoned Master by his collar and yanked him back up from the floor to face him. "You truly believe that this is going to end well, don't you? All that talk about not caring if you would live or die, it's all sodding bluff! I've seen how you looked at her. There's no way that you want to give up on her."

He let go of him, and watched with disgust how the Master collapsed on the floor like a weak bag of bruised skin and bones. Saxon was quickly running out of options, and with every odd now turning against him, he realized that it was time to put his anger on the second place and move on to apply some of his more sophisticated diplomatic skills. Emotional blackmail seemed like a good one to use right now.

"You think that you're so clever." Saxon remarked. "Double-crossing me by overriding the telepathic vault. it seemed all so easy. But I know what you had to do to save the wretched lives of those Earthlings and restore the Doctor. I know what you have sacrificed. You, my friend, have so much to lose right now."

The Master remained silent. A deep loathing for his past-self burned fiercely in his eyes. Saxon answered his hostility with a wide grin that was malicious and cold. He tapped mockingly on the side of the Master's head.

"You've got so much knowledge stored inside that thick skull of yours. Why can't you still not remember what truly happened?"

He leaned closer to him. The grin on his face froze. "I saw what the Doctor did to you after you were defeated." He whispered into his ear with a voice that was full of malice, but also carried a trace of genuine fear. "He let them kill you. I saw it in your mind. Just like I knew that Martha Jones was going to restore the Doctor. He will let those beasts execute you!"

"You're lying. I can't remember any of this."

"Oh come on!" Saxon yelled. "Who are you trying to fool here? Sure you must know, somewhere deep down, you had always known that it would end like this. A pistol fired, a sharp, burning pain in the chest. The swelling of the drums while the world falls apart."

The Master let out a ragged breath as the words that Saxon had spoken awakened a strong sense of anxiety in him. It frightened him so much, because he knew that what he said was true. Ever since the Doctor had restored his memory, this tainted knowledge which was one of the final pieces of the puzzle of his past, had been there, lingering in the back of his mind. He had ignored it, perhaps even consciously denied its existence, but now he couldn't deny it any longer.

"So why wouldn't you just regenerate?" He asked, dreading to hear the answer that he already knew in his hearts.

Saxon watched with a sick sense of malicious delight how the doubt brought turmoil and fear to the Master's eyes. "Do you really think that given the choice to escape from a miserable life of imprisonment by the Doctor I wouldn't prefer the comfortable fires of my own funeral pyre over eternal humiliation and degradation by his hands?" He smiled cynically. "Besides, if I had regenerated, you wouldn't still be in this form." He furrowed his brows and studied his future-self. "It's still a mystery though. If I was supposed to die, how on earth did I become you? And what if I would die now, would that mean that the man who's now in front of me, the "righteous" Timelord that you've become, will seize to exist?"

The Master shook his head. "Time is not fixed. You know that, as well as I do. It can be altered and changed, for the better or worse. It doesn't have to repeat itself." He added, but there was doubt in his voice.

"Perhaps." Saxon replied with a sly smile. "But the question is, would you bet on it with your own life?"

The Master remained silent for a moment before he replied weakly. "What do you want?"

"I want a chance to get away from here. If I can't get to the Tardis on time, there are escape pods on C deck, ready to carry me down to Earth." Saxon removed the silver ring from his finger. The greasy politician smile had returned to his face as he realized that he had swayed him. "I promise I won't be a nuisance." He added almost amiably. "I'll keep my head down for a while so they won't find me." He offered his ring to the Master. "So, it's my freedom, in exchange for a chance at a happy ending with the lovable miss Noble. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

**6.**

Martha didn't know what happened. One moment, the protection shield that was supposed to hold back the Toclefanes was breached, and she was staring right at a dark cloud of raging spheres that was heading towards her, ready to smash into window panel and shred her to pieces. The next moment, they disappeared in a blink of an eye, and the whole ship started to shake and tremble. She really got worried when she saw what was happening to the sun and the moon. They were rising and setting at such incredible speed that they seemed but lines of light in the sky.

"Everybody down!" Martha yelled. "Hold on tight!" Just as she had said it the ship tilted to one side, and sent everyone sliding over the floor. Martha slipped, fell over and rolled away from the control panel. She was just in time to grab hold of the railing to prevent herself from plunging down to the level below. A sudden wind swept through the room, ripping a year worth of paperwork out of the file-cabinets and scattered them into the air. Everywhere around her, people were screaming. She heard Tish cry out for her as she tried to hold on to her mum and dad, but she couldn't do anything. All that she could do was hold on tight, and close her eyes, while she kept on praying that all would turn out all right.

And then it was over almost as abruptly as it had started. The turbulence seized, and the wind lay down. Martha opened her eyes. Everyone was still there. Her family wasn't hurt. Through the massive window panels she could see the sun in a beautiful blue sky, while down below, white clouds were drifting over a landscape of green patches of meadows and fields.

"What's going on?" She muttered. A voice came over the intercom. She put it on speaker and listened with a throbbing heart.

"Valliant? Calling Valliant? This is Unit central. What's happening up there? We just saw the president assassinated!"

Martha rushed over to the control panel and read the time and date displayed on the monitors. It was July the 24th 2007, exactly one year and one day ago, just after president Winters was murdered.

"We're back." Martha said, stunned. "We're back in time, just before everything happened."

"What do you mean?" Tish asked in a confused state.

"Everything is undone. All that terror, death and hardship, all of it hasn't happened yet." She then realized something. "Of course!" She exclaimed. "It must the paradox machine! The Doctor said that we must dismantle it. Once it is destroyed, everything returns to how it was before it was switched on!"

But…I can still remember everything." Francine muttered.

"Where are the Toclefanes, and what happened to the Master?" Tish asked, still with a haunted look in her eyes.

"I don't know." Martha said, astonished herself, but with a big smile of relief dawning on her face. "Seriously I don't. Bet I bet the Doctor can explain."

"I sure hope he can, because I just saw a whole swarm of killer spheres disappear into thin air just before they were about to slice me up into doggy chow. Not that I complain of course. But I've still got a couple of question marks floating above my head." Martha looked up at and saw the good captain enter the control room with two armed soldiers. "Jack!" She said, but her smile stiffened when she saw who they dragged in.

Jack threw the handcuffed prisoner down on his knees. "Look what we found in the cargo bay! The little rat was about to leave his sinking ship, ready to make a run for it in one of the escape pods. Unlucky for him that he got caught." He removed the safety panel from his gun. Rather than to offer any resistance or provoke them with a defiant response, Saxon kept himself very quiet. He didn't even look up at them, but kept his eyes cast down on the floor instead. Drops of blood dripped from his nose and splashed on his trousers.

"So." Jack cheered and eyed at him with ill-concealed loathing. "What do we do with this one?"

There was little doubt in the minds of these humans who Saxon had so cruelly tormented, what they should do to the fallen tyrant.

"We kill him." Clive said in a cold voice.

"We execute him." Tish uttered, without a trace of compassion.

'No!" Martha interrupted. "That's not the right thing to do! Besides, we don't even know what happened to the other Master. He still saved us remember?"

"Maybe he stopped existing because the paradox machine was destroyed. The Toclefanes have also vanished, so why not the future Master?" Jack opted.

"Right!" Tish agreed, although she had only understood half of what Jack had just explained. "Anyway, he's still the same person, and if it wasn't for him, nothing would have happened in the first place!"

"Look." Martha tried, getting desperate. "Let's just wait for the Doctor and let him decide what to do. Killing him is not the solution!"

"Oh, I think so." Francine had picked up a gun from the floor, and aimed it at Saxon. Her hands were trembling. "Because all those…things…They still happened because of him." She whispered with a disturbed look on her face. "I saw them."

Saxon finally raised his head to look at his tormentors. There was a glint of raw fear visible in his eyes.

"Please…Don't…" He whispered, but his voice was too small to be heard.

"No mum! Don't do this!" Martha rushed over to her mother. 'You're better than him. Don't lower yourself to his level!" She reached out. Slowly and carefully, she removed the gun from Francine's hand. It dropped on the floor only a few meters away from Lucy Saxon.

"Oh God!" Her mum cried as she fell into Martha's arms, shivering like a leaf. Martha wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"It's okay." She whispered, finally allowing herself to spill the tears that she held back for so long during that long horrible year. "It's over now, and we're all together again."

"Oh no miss, don't!" Jack suddenly yelled. They were all startled by the gunshot that followed. Martha turned and looked over her shoulder, and saw how Saxon fell backwards with a crimson spot blooming on his shirt. The doors slid open, and the Doctor appeared. When he saw what happened, he rushed over and caught him, just before he hit the floor.

Lucy held on to the gun and stood perfectly still and pale like a statue, with the barrel still smoking from the last shot. Jack came to her and carefully took the weapon away.

"Madam. God knows we all hate that bastard, but you shouldn't have done that." He said while he cuffed her hands behind her back. He was surprised to find her blank stare to be broken by a glint of hope in the eyes and a trace of a smile on her lips.

"It's all right." She said, in a frail voice. "I didn't shoot Harry. He's quite safe."

Lucy's words alarmed Jack. "Doctor, did you just heard what she said?"

But the Doctor didn't need to listen to her to realize that something had gone horribly wrong here.

"I've got you." He told him while he gently lowered him down. "I'm sorry. I didn't see her."

"Didn't think that it would still be her. I thought you said she liked me." The Master's lips curled into a cynical smile, but his white-rimmed eyes betrayed how frightened he actually was.

"Why did you do this? Why did you pretend to be the other Master?"

"I…I cannot let him die….or Donna and I would never have met…I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry…I didn't think that it would end like this."

Donna just entered the room. She approached the Doctor, who was holding the Master in his arms. One look at his face, and she immediately realized who he was. Her blood ran cold when she saw the blood on his shirt.

"Master! What happened? Who did this?!"

The Doctor shook his head, and Donna gazed down at the Master with tears stinging in her eyes.

"Donna." The Master whispered. "I'm sorry."

"No don't. There's no need to say sorry." She smiled through her tears. "You silly spaceman, you've saved us."

"I'm not sorry for that." He grimaced. "I'm sorry that I can't stay...I can't stay here with you."

But Donna refused to accept what he's trying to tell her. "Don't try to scare me now, please." She inspected the wound. Her fingers became drenched with his blood. "It's just…a tiny little bullet." She said in a trembling voice. "I've seen you pull through much worse than that. Remember those UNIT guys? They shot you, but you just expelled those bullets and was up and running in no time! All you need is some rest." She added, weakly.

"Donna, please…don't be sad."

"Oh stop talking like that! Come on! Don't be so daft! You're a Timelord! If you can't heal yourself, than you can still regenerate, right Doctor?" She glanced hopefully at the Doctor, but her heart sank when she saw the expression on his face.

"I said, isn't that right Doctor?! Please tell me he can?"

"I'm sorry Donna." The Doctor whispered, sorrow breaking through his voice.

Donna shook her head, and took the Master in her arms. "Please, just regenerate! I don't care how you're gonna turn out, you can be short or skinny or bald or fat, I don't care. As long as you don't leave me! Please!"

"Donna calm down! Listen! He can't! He just can't. He used all of his future regenerations to restore me. He only had one life left…One chance to set things right …But now…" The Doctor stopped, choking on tears that threatened to come.

"I would have spend it with you." The Master gazed at Donna, his eyes unblinking. He didn't dare to blink. There was so little time left. His whole life, he had wasted so much time in his relentless pursuit of power, only to realize how futile it was when it was too late. Now these last precious seconds were all he had left, but he was grateful that he could share it with her and the Doctor.

"My faithful companion." His voice had become so weak that it was reduced to a mere whisper. "Oh, how would I have loved to spend that one life with you."

Donna sobbed and finally kissed him, his tenderness and devotion tasting bittersweet in her mouth while the tears spilled down her cheeks. "And I'm sure that I would have loved every second of it." She smiled bravely, but her heart was breaking.

The Doctor stared at the Master, his lips pressed together as the grief struck him in his hearts.

"Doctor." The Master whispered. "I can still hear it. Why won't it stop?" He gasped, his words no longer a question, but a desperate plead for the Doctor, his oldest friend and enemy, to save him from the relentless drums that were still hunting him, even now his the world was falling apart. He doesn't understand this, and felt terribly cheated. For didn't he do the right thing this time? Didn't he save the Earthlings and the Doctor? Why should that awful sound continue to haunt him, even in his death?

"Doctor, will it ever stop?"

His eyes grew wide for a moment as he saw the timevortex unfold, the whole of time and space, appearing right in front of him, as sinister and threatening as he remembered from when he was still a child. It swelled as it gained in power till it raged like a dangerous cyclone at sea. In the eye of the storm was a darkness that was eternal and complete. The Master watched how that darkness came for him while the Doctor and Donna faded away, leaving him all by himself, so very frightened and alone. Finally, the air stalled in his lungs, he closed his eyes and let the vortex swallow him whole.

Lucy watched how Donna held the Master close to her, rocking back and forth as she cried bitter tears. The Doctor sat next to her, spilling a river over his loss, while the rest remained silent, their need for retribution forgotten. She knew that she shouldn't feel bad about the future Master's demise, but couldn't help her heart from being touched by sadness and feeling the sting of remorse. _There is no reason to be sad._ She kept reminding herself. _She had saved Harry. Because of her, the Master will be given a second chance, and perhaps this time, he will do the right thing. _

_Maybe this time, he wouldn't have to die. _

Still, as she kept these hopeful thoughts in her mind, she couldn't stop staring at the blood that was soaked into the man's shirt.

**TBC**

**Hi there. Sorry for the dreadful cliffhanger, but the fic is soon coming to an end, and I'm sure that it won't disappoint you. Meanwhile, I'm planning to write a new (short) story, but I need to know if there's any interest in it before I get started. Please click on my authorname to get to my profile page and participate in the poll. It just takes a minute!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for taking so long to finish it, but I guess it's worth the wait. **

**1.**

There was no sound except for the metallic clang of gates closing behind her. The stale air in the corridor reminded her of the mortuary of the hospital where she had first found him. It was cool and sterile, smelling of disinfectant and chemical preservatives. She felt that it belonged to this place. Here where dead things were kept for eternity.

Jack guided her through this underground domain of the Torchwood institute, passing quickly by the rows of closed doors as they made their way to the last of the security locks at the far end. The captain spoke his name into the pinprick microphone installed next to the gate and put his palm against a black screen mounted on the wall. The sensor combined the information of his voice with that of the line scans from his hand. Concluding that they matched, a door opened in a slow mechanical shuffle.

So it's not only UNIT who's into high-tech gadgets to keep in the monsters. Donna thought not without a sense of irony as she stepped into the next corridor segment. Her mind was occupied by a thousand different thoughts and worries, and unknowingly she was already half-way when she finally noticed that Jack wasn't following. Hesitating, she turned around.

"Are you not coming?"

He shook his head. At this moment he was already going against the Doctor's wishes and against own his better judgment by allowing this secret meeting to take place, and he actually had to refrain from deciding to blow the whole thing off at the very last minute. But there was something in Donna's eyes that made him feel sorry for her that had made him grant her request.

"You let me go alone then?" She asked warily.

"You're going to be fine." Jack gave her a little smile for reassurance, but noticed that it did little to comfort her. He recognized that look on her face. Like the Doctor, she was lost. Unable to make up her mind what to do with that man waiting for her at the end of this corridor. "Remember." He urged her. "Keep as far away from the window as you could or else the mind-shield won't be able to protect you. There is a white line on the floor for guidance. Stay behind that line, and you'll be safe."

She nodded, for the good captain was only repeating what he had told her before. She knew that the mind-shield was installed around the Master's cell to keep him from tapping into the humans' brainwaves, a clever precaution, set up by the Doctor to prevent their prisoner from gaining control over the guards. Even now that he had been imprisoned, he was considered highly dangerous. She felt a pinch of fear in her heart, though it was not the concern of her own safety that was the reason behind it. With her blood pumping fast in her veins, she turned around and slowly walked away from the captain.

She passed by a single corroded door with a small glass windowpane. Behind it, she saw the frail frame of Lucy Saxon, sitting motionlessly on her bed. Her complexion seemed gray in comparison to the simple white hospital gown she was wearing. Her once golden locks carried streaks of white, and except for the slight movements in her chest that showed her breathing, there was very little life left inside her. Donna quickly averted her eyes from the wretched woman. Her feelings towards her were mixed. Although her pitiful condition could only evoke her compassion, she couldn't stare that woman in the face without remembering what she done. Better not to open those wounds again. She hastened her steps till she reached the door at the far end of the corridor. She pushed it open with both hands, taking in a deep breath before stepping through.

A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling to lit the small gloomy room, which walls were lined with dirt-caked tiles in a seasick green color. She cast her eyes on the floor, following the suspicious brown stains that reminded her of the very gruesomeness of the place. A window, strengthened on her side by rusty bars, granted her a view into an adjacent chamber, a barren cell that was hidden in darkness. No visible door led into it. Cautiously, she came as close as she dared, till the tip of her shoes stepped on the white line markings. Searching for the prisoner held inside the chamber, she squinted her eyes, peering past her own reflection in the glass and into the darkness.

"Hello." Her voice sounded weak, and trembled of nervousness. She cleared her throat and tried again, louder this time. "I said hello? Do you hear me?"

"How large do you think this stinking prison is?" His voice came from out of the shadows, and was dripping of sarcasm. He emerged slowly, like a wounded wolf from behind the trees in the winter forest, his eyes ablaze with an anger that had settled deep inside his hearts. The indignity of his defeat had cut deep into his soul, and the very sight of the bars of his cage sickened him, but his composure towards her, at least at the surface, remained calm. "I hear you loud and clear, miss Noble." He lowered his head and glared at her. "Now what do you want?"

Donna's breath caught for a moment. Although her mind knew better, her heart could still easily forget that the prisoner she was facing wasn't the same man who she had loved and lost. But then, if she didn't believe that the future Master could have once been this despicable fiend, why would she have risked her own life to be here?

"I need-" She noticed how her anxiety amused him, and Donna being Donna, quickly composed herself, raising both her chin and voice. "I need to speak to you."

The Master stared back at her. At first he seemed annoyed that this loud and most obnoxious of his enemy's companions dared to march in and demand anything from him, but then the corners of his lips slowly curled into a sly smile.

"Are you sure you should be here? Didn't they tell you not to talk to the monster in the cage?"

"Actually, they have. Captain Jack, Martha. The people from UNIT and Torchwood, they all tried to keep me away from you."

"And you ignored all of them, because…"

"I can't stay away."

"You have nerves to come here. You have even ignored the Doctor."

Donna fell silent for a moment.

"He doesn't know about this, does he?" His smile widened as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, turning his ear towards the glass panel. "This is getting interesting."

"The Doctor didn't want me to see you, but I managed to convince Jack to let me in."

"Speaking of the git, where is he?" He inquired almost casually, as if they were just having a friendly chat about a mutual friend and there were no iron bars or powerful mind-shields between the two of them. "I've not seen him ever since captain brain-dead and his Torchwood muppets dragged me down here. Oh please, do shed a light in my dreadful existence in this hellhole and tell me he died of grief."

"He's attending the funeral. Which should have been yours." She added, and the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Oh don't be stupid!" He sneered, laughing at the very idea. "Even you must know that wishing that it was me who's baking crisp on that funeral pyre right now couldn't have saved his miserable life."

"That's not what I meant." Donna responded in a soft voice.

He leaned towards her. Unnoticed, his fingers tapped on the glass in the rhythm of the everlasting drumbeats that were only present inside his mind.

"I know what you think of me." Donna continued. "You think I am too stupid to point out Germany on a map of Europe, let alone understand all this complicated timey-whimey Timelord stuff." She said it without anger, if anything, her voice carried a hint of sadness. "But I actually get these things. I am not that clueless. I know that you and the future Master are one and the same. I understand that now. That's why I could never wish you any harm. The thing that I still don't understand, and never had, is why you two seem so different." She caught the look in his eyes, and her features softened.

She studied his face and gestures, desperate to recognize perhaps just only a trace of the future Master in him.

"What will happen you?" She whispered. "How do you become him?"

"Enough." He replied in a cold voice. Her persistence made him feel uneasy. That and Donna's closeness with his future-self, combined with the eerie knowledge of his possible future sent cold shivers down his spine. Maybe bullying this woman by ridiculing her sorrow wasn't the right type of distraction that he had craved for.

"When we first met. The Master…" She stopped to correct herself. "_**You**_ told me that you have seen me before. You recognized me after your memory was restored. And in that park, just after you were stabbed by those two kids, I somehow came into possession of your ring. I have no recollection of how I got it, but it saved me from burning up when I started to remember the Doctor. And it was you who brought me here and kept me safe -"

"I said enough!" He snapped.

"All these things that had happened between us, they could not just have happened without a reason."

"Take a good look at me woman!" He raged back at her with his eyes flashing. "I am not HIM! The man you seek no longer exists. Go find the Doctor and stand by his side at his funeral pyre to mourn over his passing, if you wish. Don't come down here in the hope to find even a trace of him in me. Did you think even for a moment, that now I know what the future holds in stall for me, I would allow myself to become so – so weak, so utterly pathetic?"

Donna breathed in deeply. Although she could have expected this, his harsh words struck like spikes driven into her heart.

"You cannot prevent it from happening again." She pleaded. "No-one can change time. Not even a Timelord."

"Did he tell you that?" The Master said with a bitter grin. "Or was it the Doctor? It must be. Such a stoicistic view of life, I can hardly imagine myself saying that, even if I had lost my bloody marbles. Tell me then, miss Noble, do you still remember Pompeii? Oh you must, I've seen it inside your mind. Do you recall how you persuaded the Doctor to go back to save a Roman merchant and his family? You forced the Doctor to change history that day. Because of your action, there were sons and daughters of Ceacilius his children, who lived their lives and altered the time stream in their own small, but significant ways. Still, the earth kept turning, the stars continued to shine, and time went on, because it had simply adapted itself to the consequences of your seemingly insignificant act of compassion. What does it teach us then? It teaches us that nothing is set in stone, Donna Noble. As you have demonstrated, a strong will can alter the course of time."

He came close to her, her soft eyes meeting his that were harsh and cold. When he spoke, his breath fogged the glass panel. "And I can assure you, that right now, no stronger will than mine exist, to prevent myself with every fiber of my being, from becoming that weak and pitiful fool who you and your precious Doctor have murdered."

Donna trembled, and felt how the frail hope that she carried with her left and died then and there, only to be replaced by dark thoughts and fears.

"I didn't…I didn't murder you."

"He lost his heart to you, and that had cost him his life." He said in an accusing voice, and observed her coldly.

"You can't blame me for trying to escape his fate. For what I've seen so far, you're hardly worth that kind of sacrifice." He added with a cruel and joyless smile.

**2.**

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe till she was back outside in the corridor, and had slammed the doors shut behind her. Sinking down with her back against the wall, her eyes quickly filled with the tears that she had fought back so desperately when she was still inside that claustrophobic little room. Now, out of his sight, she let them fall freely, taking in deep ragged breaths between wails that shook her entire body.

A long time passed before her tears finally ran dry. Slowly she pulled herself up. There was no use in staying here. It was clear to her that the man she had loved was truly gone. Had she ever felt a connection with that monster who wore his face and spoke with his voice, it was no more. All she longed for now is to be with the one she had lost. She had lied to the Doctor that she didn't want to attend the funeral ceremony because it would grief her to see his body being reduced to ash, but now she was half-wishing she didn't have wasted her time on this futile quest. Suddenly she felt the urge to be there, to be with him for the last time, and saying her farewell. Wiping the last of her tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand, she checked her watch. The Doctor had been gone for a little more than one hour. If she asked Jack to bring her to the site, she could still make it in time. She started rushing back, and just had passed the other room, when a pale hand slapped hard on the small windowpane. It startled her, and Donna looked over her shoulder to see Lucy Saxon standing in front of the locked door with an anxious expression on her pale face.

"Miss Noble! Stop! I must speak to you!"

Feeling too vulnerable to face her right now, Donna turned away and pretended not to hear her plead.

"No, no! Don't go! Listen, just for a minute. It's important! Please. Miss Noble! Miss Noble." Her voice became more desperate when she noticed Donna's reluctance to even slow down her steps.

"Donna!"

Donna hesitated and turned around.

"Oh please. Please." Lucy folded her hands in a begging gesture. "You have to listen, For the sake of him. You have to save him. You have to save my Harry."

"Your Harry doesn't want to be saved." Convinced that Lucy Saxon had lost her mind and was speaking nonsense, Donna responded with such aloofness that it surprised her. Perhaps she was more capable to hate that woman than she believed she could.

"Oh that's not true.' Lucy shook her head, her face strained with tears. "It's not true. You can still save him, and I can tell you how."

"What are you rambling about?" Donna came back. Lucy's eyes burnt feverishly as she stared back at her through the glass.

"I know what you think, but I'm not mad…they think I am because I shot him, but I didn't have a choice. Really. I had to kill him. You see, everything, everything that has happened, it can't be changed. I just can't. It was all supposed to happen, because I have seen it happen, a thousand times before. We're all victims here. Especially my poor, poor Harry."

"What do you mean, why have you seen it before?" Donna asked, finally suspecting that the may be something in the poor woman's ramblings. "Did the Master show you the future?"

"Oh no. It wasn't my love. He couldn't see, not that far. His fear to die made him deaf and blind for his future. No, it was the timevortex, kept inside the heart of the Tardis that had showed me the chains of destiny to which we all are chackled, and from which we cannot escape."

"You, you looked into the timevortex?" Donna blurted, and then as she remembered what the Doctor had told her about what happened to Rose Tyler. "But that's impossible."

"Harry told me about the Doctor's companion. The one called Rose. She sacrificed herself to save the Doctor. At that time, Harry was going mad. He knew the future Master was down there on earth with you. Just by saving you he knew that he was siding with the Doctor. It endangered everything that he had worked for. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. I tried. I tried everything to calm him but he would just not rest before he had eliminated this threat. I wanted to help him so badly, but he told me I was useless and kept pushing me away. Perhaps you know how it feels. To be abandoned by someone like him." Lucy said softly, and stared at Donna with tired, red-rimmed eyes. "When Harry was first with me, he used to be so warm, and perfect, being with him was like you were bathing in the sun, but then he turned away and everything became so cold and miserable. That's what happened. He left me and I was desperate."

"Lucy." Donna tried, starting to feel pity for her. "No-one should look at the vortex. The Master saw it when he was just a small boy and it drove him insane. And he's a Timelord, you're just human."

Lucy shook her head. "I had no choice." Her pale lips curled into a bitter smile. "He used to speak of Rose Tyler in such an admirable way. My Harry. Like he considered her the perfect companion, worthy of a Timelord. I wanted to be worthy of him. So although I was so very, very afraid, I went inside the Tardis with one of my most fateful guards. I ordered him to force open the panels that shielded its heart. When he had it exposed, I looked into it, only a second, no more. The light that came from its core, it was such a beautiful sight. Oh you should have seen it…such….completeness…." She closed her eyes as she remembered, an expression of exhilaration washed over her and for a moment she came back to life. But then her memories shifted and her mood darkened again.

"Then the guard closed the panels and it was gone. And it felt so cold, and dark, I never thought it would be like that…It felt like dying…"

Lucy stared into distance with a lost expression on her face. A tear glided down her cheek.

"Lucy." Donna urged, trying to keep her patience, but her heart was beating wildly. "What do you want to tell me? What did you see?"

"Everything. Everything that once was, and everything that will be. But most importantly, I saw the chain, a circle of time, a stream without a spring and with no mouth opening into the sea. My Harry, my poor Harry is trapped."

"Please, you're talking gibberish. I can't make any sense out of it. What do you mean by trapped?"

"Trapped in time, he's a prisoner of time. And no-one can save him except for you, Donna Noble, the one with the key, the one with the ring."

"What ring? I don't have a…" Donna halted as it suddenly came to her. "The Master's ring!" She blurted out. "Do you mean the Master's ring?"

"It's not just a ring. It's a chameleon device created with Timelord technology. Harry was so afraid that he would be assassinated before his great work was completed that he created it to cheat death. It was only to be used in emergencies, as a last resort. He once told me that everything he was could be contained in it. It was hard to imagine, but all of his memories and dreams, could be digitally stored inside that petite little thing. When he tried to explain it to me, he called it the safety vault for his own soul."

"I just saw Saxon, he didn't have that ring on his fingers." Donna's eyed grew wide as she realized what Lucy was trying to tell her. "Saxon didn't have it when he was arrested..."

Lucy nodded, her eyes fluttering tiredly. "He gave it to the Master. The one from the future who came here with you."

"The ring!!" Donna cried, and a smile of relief washed over her. "The Master got the ring when he was shot, but that means he can be saved! He can still come back!!" But the smile quickly vanished from her lips when she remembered what the Doctor was doing right now at this very moment.

"The funeral! Oh no! The Doctor!"

Lucy stared at her, her eyes widening.

"The Doctor! He's performing this Timelord ritual thing, he's gonna burn the Master's body! I can't! I can't let him!" Donna turned on her heels and ran out of the corridor as fast as her feet could carry her.

"Please. Hurry Donna!" Lucy leaned heavily on the door, her willowy figure losing strength as she was quickly being consumed by a high fever. "You must save him…" She muttered, and collapsed on the floor. Her eyes closed, but her lips continued to murmur her pleads as if in a prayer.

"Donna…please…please save him…"

**3.**

The air was thick with black smoke that stung the Timelord's eyes and hurt his lungs, while the heat coming from the leaping flames burnt hot on his face. Still, he didn't want to move away from the burning pyre. The torch he had used to light up the dry wood was long since burnt out, but he still held it in his hand. His thoughts were everywhere, going back to times beneath the red sky of Gallifrey to the moments in the dungeon, and to the brief encounters in between when both of them wandered the universe in search of a meaning and a justification for their own existence. They had fought each-other for so long, but although he had often defeated the Master, in the Doctor's eyes there had never been any real victories, only losses.

And this time, he had lost so much…

Caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the black van pulling up behind him on the top of the quarry. A door swung open even before the car came to a full stop, and Donna jumped out and ran down towards the still burning pyre.

"Doctor!" She screamed her lungs out, waiving her hands in the air. "Stop! Don't burn him!" She came closer and saw the smoke billowing up high with the wooden scaffold engulfed in flames.

"Put it out!" She shrieked. "Put it out!!"

Donna rushed by him and threw her coat on top of the burning flames in an attempt to smother the fire.

"What? Donna what are you doing! You're setting yourself on fire!" Convinced that she was struck by grief, the Doctor pulled her away from the flames, tossing her burning coat away. Donna looked close to frantic, and he was about to slap his companion in an effort to get her back to her senses, but Donna managed to shake his hands off her.

"It's the ring!" Donna yelled. "It contains Timelord technology. He was wearing it when Lucy shot him down. He's not gone Doctor! We can still bring him back!"

The Doctor let go of Donna with his eyes wide in bewilderment. Meanwhile, Jack appeared from the car and came down the quarry slope, carrying a hose that was connected to a water tank sitting at the back of the van.

"Guess we're a bit late, Red." The captain uttered as he took in the situation, squinting his eyes as he came too close to the heat. "There will be nothing left but charcoal –"

The Doctor took the hose out of Jack's hands and aimed it at the burning body. The water hissed loudly as it hit the flames and sent a big cloud of steam rising up from the pyre.

"I need more water!!" The Doctor yelled, his eyes flashing and determined. Jack back ran to the van to pump up the pressure, while Donna rushed towards the smoldering heap. Now that the flames were dying down, she could see what was left of the Master's body, it was burned beyond recognition, with most of his limbs already reduced to blackened sticks.

"Donna!" The Doctor screamed. "It's not safe yet!"

"Why do you guys have to burn your dead?" Donna shouted. When she turned to face him, he saw the tears of frustration running down her flushed cheeks.

"What's wrong with digging a decent hole and putting him in it?"

When the Doctor and Jack finally succeeded to put out the fire, Donna dropped her knees in front of the black pile of wood and ash. The ground was still hot, and she felt the heat burning though the fabric of her trousers. She didn't care.

There was nothing left. No face that she recognized, no legs, no feet, no arms, and no hands. No sign of the ring. She tried not to panic. It must have dropped into the ashes when he burnt. She started digging. The skin on her fingers blistered as they racked through the smoldering ashes, but she didn't feel the pain. The Doctor crouched next to her, and also started searching through the remains. She hardly noticed that he was there. She just kept digging with her tears blurring her sight, and with only one though running through her mind.

_There is nothing left of him. Nothing….How am I now suppose to bring him back? _

And then, at that very moment, it finally dawned on her. Donna never had been a firm believer in such things as fate or destiny. But now, after all that had happened, and with the knowledge that Lucy had given her, she finally had the time to reconsider this. She suddenly realized that they had always been heading towards this.

Every step she took, every decision that she had made, however small or seemingly insignificant, had brought her closer to this fixed point in time.

And as she realized this, a sad little smile curled her lips. A sigh escaped her when her fingers closed around the small metal object that was buried underneath the layers of black ash.

She did not need to see it, to know that it was the Master's ring.

If she had the choice to do it all over again, she knew she would, and she did.

4.

Two lonely figures were standing at the cliff above the quary. The late afternoon sun threw long shadows over the blackened circle below. Donna pushed a lock of stray hair from her face, her was expression one of conviction. She didn't need to wait for the Doctor's reply to know what he thought of her plan. The disturbed look on his face said enough, but she wasn't going to give up so easily. Not if it meant that her stubbornness could grant him a second chance. She knew that the Doctor was too kindhearted not to listen, and his loss was too great to not act on this one chance to silence his conscience.

"Do you realize what this means Donna?" The Doctor asked, his eyes firmly fixed on hers.

"I'm bringing him back." Donna said, her voice was small but determined.

"You're condemning him." The Timelord answered. "Like Lucy said, by allowing this to happen again, he will be chained to this time paradox, an endless loop in time in which he is doomed to repeat this over and over again for eternity…"

"Unless this time we get it right. "

The Doctor sighed. "The chance of that happening is one to a trillion…."

"So there is still a chance." She cast her eyes on the ring. "Doctor." She pleaded. "I know that you must still remember him from before he became this…monster. You must know how he used to be. I'm telling you now. I know him, I know him as you once did." She held out the ring to him. The delicate silver symbols gleamed in the warming rays of the afternoon sun. "That man that we both loved, he's still in there. I'm begging you…with all my heart…Please…help him."

The Doctor's expression darkened. He cast his eyes on the smoldering remains of the pyre where the smoke still rose from the ashes, than back at Donna. After a long silence, he finally held out his hand to take the ring from her.

**_TBC_**


	20. Chapter 20

**1.**

Like a public scaffold that was about to be put to use, the Tardis had been carefully prepared in advance. The core had been switched over to standby function the previous night to save power, for the energy drain that would follow once the bioconverter was activated could cause the whole system to crash and render the conversion incomplete. A helmet was connected to the chameleon arch and dangled like a noose from the gallows. A chair was especially prepared, bolted to the floor right underneath it. It was the same procedure that the Doctor had to carry out the last time that he was forced to use the chameleon device. Then, he had used this device in an attempt to save the lives of his enemies. Now, ironically, it was prepared for ruining another. When the Doctor switched on the power-generator, Donna couldn't suppress a feeling of unease as the threatening sound of the built-up from the electrical charge reminded her of the torturous electrical currents that the UNIT soldiers had used on the Master. She shivered ever so slightly.

The Doctor glanced at her, his eyes questioning her intentions and his own, but she composed herself, turned and stared firmly back at him, giving him a small nod. After a long moment of hesitation, the Doctor proceeded with the protocol.

When the time came, the Master was brought in by Jack with his hands cuffed at the back. Although he didn't want to show his enemies his distress, the sight of the helmet connected to the glowing Tardis core unnerved him, and he stepped away, only to be pushed back forward by the captain.

"What's the matter big boy?" Jack mocked. "Never seen the inside of the Tardis before?"

"No!" The Master exclaimed, quickly realizing what they were planning to do. "No you can't do this to me!"

When the Master continued to resist, Jack grabbed him by his cuffed wrists, twisted them till he let out a cry of pain, and dragged the condemned man back inside where he came face to face with the Doctor.

"It's not what you think." The Doctor pleaded.

"Oh it's exactly what I think it is!" The Master spat as he continued to struggle against the captain who pushed him down into the chair.

"Red!" Jack shouted over his shoulders. "A little help please with the restrainers!"

Donna wandered over like a ghost, and watched with hollow eyes how Jack removed the cuffs from their prisoner, then took hold of the Master's wrists and forced it through two open metal rings bolted to the arms of the chair. The Master's eyes flashed wide in fear, and stared up at her accusingly.

"Donna!" Jack urged.

She suddenly snapped out of her inertness and went over to the control panel where she switched over the handles. The metal rings immediately sprung shut with a loud metal clang, startling the Master who took in a deep ragged breath. Both his hearts beat like mad and the drums drone out any possible rational thoughts that were left inside his tortured mind. He cast an enraged look at the others.

"So, my would be executioners." He tried to appear calm, but the slight tremor in voice betrayed him.

"Doctor, I never thought you had it in you. But then again, you were the one who let Gallifrey burn."

"Oh please. Don't start that." Jack rolled his eyes at him. "Spare your breath. You're not gonna let us feel guilty about this. It's not even a real execution." He snorted. "Be grateful. The Doctor wants you to keep you alive, that's more than I had in mind for you –"

"That's enough!" The Doctor told the captain. He didn't want to upset him, but the Master laughed back sarcastically, his head thrown back, he answered with a wide maddened grin. "How about that." He mocked. "I'm about to get murdered and this cock of a time-agent here thinks it's only for show. Seriously Doctor, where is your fucking compassion."

"Who needs to be compassionate when dealing with you!" Jack sneered.

"I said, that's enough!" The Doctor ordered, and shot him an angry look.

"Okay I shut up." The former timeagent said in a bitter voice and raised his hands up as he stepped away from both timelords. "If anyone needs me. I'll be over there, counting down the seconds."

The Doctor ignored Jack's last snide remark and turned back to their prisoner. "Master." He said in soft voice as he lowered himself till he stared him right into his eyes. "You know why we have to do this."

The Master glared back at him. It had been a long while since he had shown any of his true emotions to the Doctor, but now, in the last hours of his existence, he could no longer hide his most darkest inner fears. "If you hate me this much, why don't you just kill me?" His voice rasped, and trembled. "I've been human once before." He paused and swallowed as he felt the icy grip tighten around his hearts. "It's a fate worse than death."

The Doctor grievingly shook his head. "Forgive me." He whispered, and bowed his head.

The Master kept looking into the Doctor's eyes as he rose. Until now he had been reluctant to accept that this was his final defeat. His pride and stubbornness had kept him going with the naïve hope that somehow his fortune could still turn, that eventually, his cunning and wit would save him from the awful fate that was installed for him. But now he finally realized that there was no way to reverse all this. He was going be trapped by the Doctor in this horrible paradox in which he was condemned to repeat his past and future mistakes for the rest of eternity.

"Murderer!" He stared around the room, the horror of his fate reaping the last straws of reason from his mind. "You are all murderers!" He screamed and looked straight at Donna. _It is all that woman's fault, _he thought. _If it wasn't for her…_

"I will remember this. I swear. This won't be repeated." He screamed. His eyes followed the Doctor who adjusted the final controls and then rested his hand on the lever that would activate the bioconverter. He once again broke out in nervous laughter, while angry tears pricked behind his eyes.

_Yet again, killed by a girl. Will I then never learn. _

"Next time, I'll kill you before you have the chance to ruin everything! You hear me, Donna Noble?! I won't forget this! I won't!"

The Doctor pushed down the lever, and with a violent surge of energy that illuminated the console room in a blinding light, the Chameleon Arch awoke violently from its slumber and ended the Master's life.

**2.**

Everything was darkness.

He knew he had to wake up. His body was cold, freezing. Every fiber of his being told him that he should not continue to sleep, that he should regain consciousness, or else he might never be able to wake up again. But he struggled. It was like he was trapped in a bog where he had to wade his way through the dark stinking mess to get to the surface while he was still sinking down fast. His eyes fluttered, opened occasionally, registered light, but the world outside his dreams was packed in a thick sticky membrane while the people around him were mere ghostly appearances. And then there was the pain, greeting him as the state of consciousness came closer and closer. A sharpness that cut right through his skull with every heartbeat, as if something had been violently taken from him. Something vital. Something important. He swallowed, and felt how his throat burned. His nose picked up the sweet, sickening odor of scarred flesh and burnt hair.

Someone raised his head up and stroked over his face, his touch was comforting and cool against his burning aching skin. He swallowed hard and tried to speak. Tell him about the pain in his head. Somehow, it seemed important to let the other know. But his tongue and mouth were useless.

"It's all right. The man said. He gently placed a glass of water against his lips. He drank the cool water that quenched the burning sensation in the back of his throat, and was grateful.

"It's okay. I've got you now. I've got you." The man whispered, just before the light faded and he sank away again, deep into the darkness.

The days that followed were strange to him, although he realized that he had no recollection of the past as a reference to what was supposed to be normal. His world consisted of the small chamber where he was put in, the comfort of his warm bed and the man who cared for him and who came to visit often. A woman with a pale face framed by flaming red hair accompanied him. She sat down by his bed-side, took his hand into hers and stayed like this for hours while she hardly ever talked. She had such sadness in her eyes that it made him feel sorry for her. On one occasion, he was so careless to ask why she so often cried. She had quickly turned away from him to rush out of the room, her face hidden behind her hands while her shoulders shook. When she returned, she just pretended that nothing had happened. When she came to visit him again, she did try to carry a smile on her lips, but it never reached her eyes.

He didn't dare to ask about the cause of her grief again.

Although it seemed to have no meaning in this place, time must have passed, for he quickly found that had he grown strong again, and he could eat and walk without aid. He felt like he had almost fully recovered although the pain in his head remained. At night, when both his caretakers were away, and the lights went out inside his chamber, he would stay awake a little longer, just to listen. He would try to breathe very slowly and quietly, and pick up the sound of distant drums, hidden under the constant pulse of his own heartbeat.

To him these monotonous, carefree days of sanctuary seemed all that there was to life, and he had expected it to go on like this for ever, but of course, it did not.

When they appeared in his chamber one day, the man who called himself the Doctor did not speak for a long while, nor did the woman with the sad eyes. Their faces showed the burden of guilt.

He sat right-up in his bed. A strong sense of unease suddenly washed over him. Something was going to happen.

"It's time." The Doctor whispered, finally breaking the awkward silence, and looked at Donna. She nodded pensively, than took something out of her pocket. It appeared to be a small glittering object dangling from a cord. She turned to him, her lips curled into a bittersweet smile, and with great gentleness and care, she fastened it around his neck.

"What is this?" He asked, and took the pendant in his hand to take a better look at it. It was a silver ring with a green gemstone. He slowly traced his fingers over the strange symbols engraved in the gem.

"It belongs to you." She explained, her voice breaking. "Make sure that you keep it with you. Don't lose it. It will keep you safe."

"Safe? Safe from what?" He couldn't help himself from staring at it. His mind was fully occupied with the small silver object. Somehow it seemed indeed to be important, but he couldn't remember why.

She didn't answer him, but started crying as she kissed him softly on his forehead.

**3.**

The Tardis appeared in a corner of a backstreet alleyway in the middle of a whirlwind of plastic and paper. A long forgotten campaign-poster, announcing to the British public that they should all vote for Harold Saxon, was ripped off from the wall and landed at the Doctor's feet. He stared down at it for a short moment. The very irony of the message on this little piece of paper didn't escape him. Then Donna appeared from the Tardis, blinking her eyes against the watery sun. She cast one look around at where they had landed before shaking her head firmly.

"Oh, no. No, not here. We can't leave him here." She said with sternness in her voice.

"You told me that he was living in the streets when you found him." The Doctor turned to her with his hands in his pockets. He stared back her grimly.

"Yes, I did. But…it's dirty and…and it's cold." She wrapped her arms around herself as the wind swept through the narrow passageway. "Which month is it?"

"It's January. The 20th of January 2008 to be precise, roughly six months before you met him."

"But that's in the middle of the bloody winter! What if it freezes? What if he gets sick? We can't leave him here."

"He will survive this. You know that."

"Why can't we drop him somewhere closer in time? He doesn't have to go through all of this again. How about somewhere in spring? Or July the 19th, just one day before we meet. Only one day of this. Doctor, Please."

"We can't do that." The Doctor stated. "The Master you knew had been living in the streets for months before you ran into him. Change this, and you two might never meet. This is as close as we can get without taking any risks."

Donna's resolve broke. She let out a sigh, and with a heavy heart she went back inside to get the Master, who was patiently waiting for her in the control-room. The Doctor had given him one of his long coats to wear, together with a strong pair of shoes, a warm sweater, and a sturdy pair of jeans. Everything had been selected most carefully, for they had to help him through all the long months of hardship that were yet to come.

When she saw him she quickly composed herself, and keeping her voice as normal as possible she told him that he should follow her.

Two steps out into the dark alleyway and the Master turned and halted his pace, his eyes large in wonder as he inspected the strange structure from which he had just emerged. Although his mind can no longer understand any complex ideas, the dimensions of the small blue box completely baffled him. Then he turned around to take in his surroundings. He felt the cold wind sting his eyes and cheeks. There were strange smells of pollution, and smoke, of garbage and hot food in the air, and when he breathed out deeply his breath became visible in dense white clouds. The walls were covered with advertisement and graffiti. Hesitantly, he took a few steps forward. His new shoes accidentally kicked an empty soda can. It rolled away from him and came to a halt against an overflowing mount of garbage bags. A fat brown rat emerged, and startled the Master as it skittered away down into the sewer.

His heartbeat quickened when he suddenly heard the sound of the Tardis engine. It was a sound he had learned to recognize in the days he had spend with his caring companions, and had associated with comfort and safety. A blue light swept over the otherwise darkened alley, throwing quickly shifting shadows on the walls. Caught in a panic, he spun around, only to find that the blue box was slowly disappearing into thin air while a violent wind swept the Vote Saxon leaflet high into sky. It swirled four-five times around the spot where the blue box stood, until the Tardis was complete vanished. Then the leaflet gently drifted down, like a black-and white bird with broken wings, and finally settled on the ground, right in front of the Master's feet.

**4.**

He stayed in the alley for a long time in a state that could only be described as shock. He was frightened, with his safe-heaven vanished, and with his kind companions lost, he felt utterly deserted. The noisy and dirty world outside the alley seemed as alien to him as life on another planet. Everything was strange, and hostile. So he kept himself in the shadows, waiting and hoping for the Doctor and Donna to return. He waited till the sun set down over the rooftops and the streets lights lit up, turning from a weak orange glow into a cold sterile white blaze. He waited till the main-streets filled with the noise of heavy traffic and with the hustle and bustle of people rushing home from work. He waited till the sky was black and the air became so much colder that he had to put his hands inside his pockets to prevent them from turning into lumps of ice. The backdoor of an Indian restaurant opened and a man came out. He carried a full garbage bag from the kitchen, and dumped it on the pile against the wall while yelling an order back into the kitchen to his staff. When he spotted the Master, he eyed at him suspiciously and cursed something inaudible in his mother tongue. He was just about to go back inside when the Master stopped him.

"Wait, please."

The man turned half around, his face hostile. "What do you want? I don't give money to junkies."

"No…" The young man answered, feeling awkward and suddenly lost for words. The hostility of the other man baffled him. He doesn't even know what a junkie was and what money was for.

"No not that…" He rambled.

"Then what?" The man barked.

"Uhm…It's cold and…it's dark." The young man licked his dry lips, desperation and fear settling in while his heart rattled like mad. Why was this man so unkind to him? He did nothing wrong. And where were his guardians? Why did they abandon him?

The man did not know what to make of this. "Are you drunk or something? Are you looking for shelter?"

"I'm afraid." He said truthfully, and hoped he would understand. "Please sir. Help me."

"There's one from the Salvation Army, just across the road. I can't help you. But they can. Now get away from my backdoor." He waived his hand to make him step aside and let him pass. "If you're not gone in an hour I'll call the police." And with that said, he slammed the door close behind him.

He eventually found the shelter, and was taken in by a kind elderly woman in a black uniform who gave him a hot meal, and a cot to sleep on in a noisy hall. There were others there, men dressed in rags who smelled of the back alley where he had first ventured into this strange place. Some of them were ill and couched continuously but remained otherwise quiet, others seemed angry with the world and with themselves, and cursed loudly, even in their sleep. Although the shelter was relatively comfortable and warm, he could not find peace in that place. At night he suffered from terrible nightmares. He was haunted by men and women with distorted faces covered in blood, by murderous spinning sliver spheres, and by an army of monsters, who were all grins of shining sharp teeth but no faces, that lurked in the dark while the horrific sound of pounding drums rang in his ears. It woke him in the middle of night. Lying in his sweat-drenched cot, he was often unable to catch sleep again.

After three days he could no longer bear it and left the shelter. He wandered the streets day and night, but was still unable to find peace of mind. He slept in porches and under bridges, enduring the cold while the damp crept through his clothes into his flesh and bones. When he became hungry, he tried to beg others for help, only to be turned away or ignored. When hunger made him take an apple from a stand, he was chased away from the market. Finally, he was forced to search for something edible in the garbage bins. He licked clean the wrappers from burgers and candy bars, and ate the leftovers from sandwiches discarded at lunchtime to still the worst of his hunger, but was not enough to sustain him. As the winter progressed he grew weak and thin, his cheeks became hollow and his eyes sunken, while his clothes smelled of sour sweat and the filth he slept in. eventually, the people in the street started to avoid him, but he no longer mind.

He was no longer in need of comfort from others, for the very memory of his time in the Tardis and the kindness of his caretakers had slowly been lost to him. All he knew was the present, and the present meant only constant hunger, the miserable cold and loneliness.

Near the end of the winter months he had become too weak to wander around all day. He would rather stay put at one place at a time, until the more respectable citizens became aware of him again because he was causing them inconvenience and the police would tell him to leave. He would then walk around in the city for a while, without purpose or direction, till he found a relatively warm and quiet place to settle down again. One day, he wandered into a place that he had never been before. It was a small park, just at the back of grand building, that wasn't often visited by others. Exhausted and numb from the cold, he sat down on a wooden bench beneath the still barren three branches, and stared at a small group of stringy pigeons fighting about some crumbs of bread.

A slow trickle of rain came down, keeping his dirty clothes wet and uncomfortable. He hung his head while his misery clung onto him like an illness, draining him from any hope to a better life. Indeed, on a day like this, he sometimes wished he could sleep and never wake up again.

A group of young women approached the entrance of the park. They just had lunch in the restaurant nearby, and were heading back to office. One of them, a red-haired woman with a loud voice and pleasant face kissed the others goodbye on the cheeks and took the shortcut through the park to the back entrance of the museum where she worked.

"Bye Sam! Bye Rachel! Oy! And don't forget to call me tonight to tell me about him. Remember, I want to know everything! Any weird looks or horrid smells, hair or no hair, the whole enchilada! So take down notes!"

Her friends smiled and waved at her. She waved back. Just another 4 hours, she told herself, just four hours of typing down complete mind-numbing gibberish, and she could go home and start celebrating her Friday night. She and Samantha had already made plans to drink themselves into oblivion while waiting for Rachel to report back on her date. Being in a reasonably good mood, she rummaged through her handbag to fish out the package of jelly-babies that she had not touched since she had convinced herself that she was on a diet last Monday. In the high spirit of the moment, she decided that she could treat herself.

It wasn't on purpose. After all, this was London, and Donna had seen homeless people wandering around the city before, but as she passed by the entrance, she glanced at the miserable figure sitting on the bench and saw his face, only for a short moment. He looked back at her, his blue-gray eyes devoid of any emotions than that of misery and numb acceptance. To her own astonishment, she slowed down her pace.

"Here." She said, and she handed the bag of sweets to him. "You need it more than I do." The young man took the bag from her hands, but kept his eyes fixed on her. Something stirred inside his memories. He suddenly felt the cold sting from his keep-safe, the sliver ring with the green gem that dangled from the coarse cord close to his heart, and he grabbed hold of it instinctively.

There was something about this woman with pale fair features and flaming red locks that he seemed to remember.

Embarrassed, Donna returned an awkward smile and, feeling mightily stupid for what she had done, quickly turned and headed back to her office. By five o'clock, when she was finished at work and went to meet her friend at the main entrance, she had already forgotten her encounter with the strange young man, and she would not notice his presence again till many months later, when they will meet again face to face on that one ill-fated summer day.

He, however, could not forget her, although he had no idea who she was and why she was so important. He lingered in the park, waiting to see her again. That night he slept beneath the wooden bench, and dreamt that she came and gave him the ring that he wore around his neck, while kissing him gently on his cheek. He dreamt about wandering with her through a landscape of silver sands, of traveling together in a golden sphere, and shielding her from the monsters that lurked in the dark and rose with the drums. He dreamt that he had once kept her safe, and that she had saved him. When he woke the next morning, he had the ring clutched tightly between his fingers, and a small smile of hope cracked his dry lips. Fragments of the dream remained, and he would cherish it during the long cold hours of the day.

When the sun came up, he sat down on the bench where he had first met her, and like a faithful companion, he stayed outside in that park, and waited.

Days passed by. Eventually, the snow would melt and spring and summer would come, bringing with it what was fate, and what was to be history. The Master of old would have dreaded it, and would have seen it as a curse, an eternal damnation of his existence. But for the lonely young man who was sitting underneath the trees, patiently waiting for her to return, this must have seemed a perfect way to start anew.

**The End**


End file.
